Her Brother and Her Father
by Fangirl703
Summary: 2 months after CoLS Clary finds herself taken by her brother and someone she thought long dead. Jace has no clue she's been taken and she is pushed to the breaking point with Sebastian, his new rune and his intentions. Along with the intentions of the dead aquaintence, she struggles to survive and retain her sanity as she is used for the purposes of evil to bring down the Clave.
1. Gone and Tourtured

_**All rights except plot belong to the amazing Cassandra Clare. I own nothing save the plot.**_

Walking down the New York street, the brisk wind did nothing to settle the cold feeling of being watched. It's been two months since the Seventh Sacred Site and Jace wasn't any closer healthiness. She was beginning to despair that the Silent Brothers would ever find a cure. Clary has gone for a short walk to clear her head of the loneliness she has felt for the past two months, the withdrawal form Jace's touch. The Clave was being absolutely no help; all they were doing were sitting around discussing how they would find her brother and not actually doing anything. A cold chill rushes down her neck; though the park is empty she turns around to check for people. Upon seeing nothing but the leaves blowing in the wind she turns around only to run, face first, into a hard, muscled chest.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't…" she lets the words drop from her lips as she sees the all too familiar devil smile spread across his face.

That smile shoves a cold knife of fear through her heart as she spins around on her heel. She hears a low chuckle as Sebastian's strong arms wrap around her waist and arms. He pulls her flush with his body and breathes down her neck. Did he just smell her hair? She starts to kick frantically and opens her mouth to scream. Before she can Sebastian places a hand over her mouth.

"Nothing to be sorry about, little sister," he ducks his head down to whisper in her ear. "I told you there isn't a place on this earth where you could hide where I couldn't find you."

Sebastian takes his hand off her mouth, "Now don't scream, sweet sister." He reaches down and pulls out a length of rope from his leather biker jacket. It has an orange hue emanating from it.

"Let go of me Sebastian!" she spits, "What? No stele? Trying to go for the common kidnapper?"

"Not exactly." As soon as the orangey rope touches her skin she lets out a scream of pain. Sebastian takes this opportunity to gag her. The rope shoots fire up her arms, diminishing just before her shoulders. He swings her up onto his shoulder and Clary lets out another muffled cry of pain. "But I still enjoy the challenge of old school."

The fire stabbing up her arms burns like hell but she still manages to thrust her legs out, trying to knee Sebastian in the face. Sebastian grunts as his head is flung sideways when Clary's knee connects with his jaw. He stops and brings a hand to his lip. It comes away red.

He chuckles and says, "Nice try little sister, but it takes a lot more than a bloody lip to stop me." Sebastian shifts his arm down to rest on her calves. This throws her off balance, sending her further down Sebastian's back. She fists her hands in his shirt and lets out a muffled shout of surprise. Then she growls and slams her fists into his back.

"Still the spitfire I see. We'll put that to the test later," Sebastian says with a hint of tantalization.

Clary freezes as she realizes the disgusting thing Sebastian just hinted at. Before she can react to this Sebastian throws her onto the backbench of a Jeep and slides in next to her. She wonders why Sebastian didn't take the driver's seat when she sees a head of white blond hair, identical to his son's, turn to face her with a devil's smile on her face.

"Welcome back, Clarissa," Valentine says coolly.

Clary, horrified at her nightmare made flesh, screams as loud as she can through her gag, using her legs she pushes herself up, trying to get away but only succeeds in pressing herself up against her brother who drapes his arm across the back of her seat. She screams until her throat is raw and her spine digs into her brother's side.

"Done?" Sebastian asks irritably. Valentine starts up the car, drawing a portal rune on the dash he drives down the street as if he didn't just have his son abduct his daughter.

Clary whips her head around to glare at her brother with a deep hatred. Sebastian tilts his head to the side with a cruel smile, "Oh right, _that._"

He removes the gag and Clary practically spits in his face, "Take me back and go burn in hell."

"In that order?" Sebastian asks playfully.

"Yes, you ass-hole, in that order!"

"No need to be mean Clarissa. We're just having some fun," he says with a hurt look on his face.

"I have just cause seeing as my megalomaniac of a brother just kidnapped me and my god forsaken father has come back from the dead!" She yells.

"Jonathon, shut her up!" Valentine orders from the front seat.

Sebastian pulls a stele from his boot and grins down at Clary who is now squirming towards the other side of the Jeep. Sebastian just grabs her by the wrist and lifts her hair to get at her neck.

"Sweet dreams little sister," he says before pressing the burning stele into her neck and then everything fades to black.

Clary wakes up disoriented. She cracks open her emerald eyes and looks around the dark room. "This can't be happening," Clary says as she rolls over on the bed she was laid down on… and rolls right into a solid body lying on the edge of the bed. She jumps back, muffling a scream with her hand. Sebastian is sleeping on the side of the bed next to Clary with an arm bent around the back of his head and his chest rises slowly in the soft pattern of sleep.

Clary looks down at herself to make sure all her clothes were still in place remembering what he had mentioned earlier. Finding that every article was still in place she gets up off the bed and blindly tries to navigate the room. It's damp and dark and feels very tight. Running her hands along the wall she finds a doorknob. Turning it slowly she winces as it squeaks and the air behind her shifts as hot breath blows down her neck.

"And where do you think you're going," Sebastian asks snaking an arm around her waist.

"Anywhere but here," she says shaking off his arm, ripping open the door and bolting down the dimly lit hallway outside. There are only two more doors in the hallway and a glass window at the end. Before she can get out of the hallway she is slammed up against the wall and Sebastian uses the rest of his body to pin her to the wall.

"Do you really not like me that much, Clarissa?" Sebastian asks bringing his face down, looking directly into her eyes.

"Oh no," she says rolling her eyes, "I don't not like you, Sebastian. I hate you! I never said anything about liking you or wanting to come with you or ever interacting with you ever again!" She yells in his face. She struggles against the weight of Sebastian's thighs pressing her legs up against the hard plaster. Sebastian just scowls while Clary continues yelling at him, "Why do you even what me? I'm not special, I'm not even a Shadowhunter. I was brought up in the mundane world, I don't have years of experience with hunting demons and I've only just now learned about my rune ability! So why do you want me?"

Sebastian lets out an exasperated sigh, "Because you are a Morgenstern. You have Morgenstern blood just as much as angel blood. Father and I are putting both of them to use. I want you to strengthen the Morgenstern line and father agrees, he just has more important uses for your angel blood as well."

Clary closes her eyes and turns away in disgust. Disgust that her own family would use her like this. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't know Jace knew she was gone or was even looking for her, if he would find her. Her father or brother separate she could deal with but together?

"Look at me Clarissa," Sebastian growls. He runs a caressing hand down her neck.

Clary squeezes her eyes shut harder, trying to choke down the sobs building in the back of her throat. If it was just her brother or father she could give away their position or escape with some luck, she's done it before. It terrifies her what her family, her own family, would do to her. She can barely cope with Sebastian trying to force her to 'purify the bloodline.' With Valentine here, she was hoping Sebastian was lying, that he wouldn't try anything. She really hopes Sebastian was lying when he said Valentine wants to strengthen the bloodline.

As if to prove her thoughts wrong Sebastian says, "Then I'll make you." He brings his lips down hard on hers, pressing her harder onto the wall. His mouth moves slowly on hers, trying to tease her lips open with his tongue, pleading for entrance. Clary keeps her mouth closed trying to push him away but he stays cemented against her. He brings his hand up and touches a pressure point on her jaw, causing it to open but Clary snaps her mouth shut and rips her face away.

"What the hell Sebastian! Isn't Valentine around? Wouldn't daddy dearest be disappointed to find his perfect son locking lips with his daughter?" Clary says.

"Oh no," Sebastian shakes his head, "He's all for us strengthening his bloodline. _Our _bloodline. We need to have a stronger tie than blood if we're to concur those pathetic Clave supporters. A _much_ stronger tie." Sebastian grins like the devil himself and wraps an arm around her waist.

Clary is kicking and screaming now, "NO, NO, YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! I WON'T!"

Sebastian turns her around so she is kicking nothing but air as he walks down the hall. She screams and screams, sobbing all the while, letting hot tears flow down her face. She kicks at the walls trying to throw Sebastian off balance. "NO, PLEASE!"

"Shh, don't worry sweet sister. I'll make it worth your while. There's no need to cry and beg," he soothes, using his back to open a thick black door.

The bedroom is large but dark with a few solitary candles burning in the corner. The bed itself is huge, swathed in black silk and piled with pillows of varying sizes. A window on the far wall looks out on a dark beach, the waves lapping at the shore. The moon reflects like a silver disk on the still water's surface.

Still screaming, Clary is thrown down on the bed and Sebastian climbs on top of her. Clary moves to throw a punch but Sebastian catches her wrists and ties them at the head of the bed with a length of rope.

Sobbing, Clary calls out, "Jace! Jace!" Her screams are cut short as Sebastian presses the burning tip of a stele down on her neck and a rune of quietude sinks deep into her skin. He sketches another rune just below her collarbone, unfamiliar to her, but does nothing to change anything so she continues her struggles.

"I don't need you screaming that angel boy's name. It'll ruin my mood."

Clary glares and brings her knee up, aiming for the place she knows will hurt most but Sebastian catches her leg and rips off her boots and socks. He gently kisses her ankles, slowly pushing up up her jeans and kissing her legs.

As soon as Sebastian's lips pressed against her skin she feels the unfamiliar rune flare up and send waves of unwanted pleasure coursing through her body. This weakens her immensely as Sebastian enjoys his new plaything by trailing a hand up to her jean button and works them down her legs, throwing them across the room to expose black and red lace panties.

His eyes rake down her legs to her toes and up again to her face. "Angel, little sister you're beautiful… and all mine." He leans down to trail kisses up her inner thigh, slowly making his way towards her core.

This isn't right. She doesn't want this or her brother but the rune is forcing her to enjoy it, to make her melt in the palm of Sebastian's hand. It feels phenomenal, the rune. She arches her back as Sebastian reaches her core but falls back on the bed as he passes it and continues his work up to her stomach, pushing up her navy camisole. Sebastian apparently took her jacket.

He traces kisses along Clary's stomach up to her bra where he rips open the cami so it hangs to her sides, exposing her matching lace bra. Finally he presses his mouth to hers and this time she doesn't fight back despite how badly she wants to. The rune is making her lustful, craving Sebastian's touch as though her life hung in the balance.

She welcomes his kiss, trying to pull her hands down to wrap around his neck but they catch on the rope still securing her to the bed. Sebastian's hand comes up to cup her face while he ravishes her mouth. His other hand has different ideas. He drags it up her thigh to her core and runs a finger over the thin cotton separating him from her. She involuntarily arches into him, lusting for release.

Sebastian moves to her neck, gently kissing her pulse point. "Now that you've accepted this I'm going to remove your rune of quietude and the rope."

His face still buried in her neck he reaches up and tugs in the rope which immediately falls away. Clary's hands fly to the back of Sebastian's neck and lace through his white blond locks. Next he draws back slightly to draw a slash through the quietude rune on her neck.

"If you're really going to do this, I feel slightly under dressed." Clary's shocked because she has no idea where the words came from.

Sebastian grins down at her. "I can fix that." He leans back on his knees and pulls his black shirt over his head and tosses it across the room then kicks off his boots and socks. He dives back in to envelope Clary's mouth with his own.

His hand down at Clary's core pushes past the cotton and touches her there. This sends another round of even more powerful waves of pleasure through her as a coil starts tightening in her stomach. He moves his finger around, pressing her in all the right places, eliciting multiple moans from Clary who tries to struggle against the intoxicating rune and Sebastian's touch but both are too powerful to resist.

His other hand runs greedily up and down her side, trailing sparks. Sebastian moves down her neck and sucks on the sensitive skin there.

Clary has had enough but the rune won't allow her to move in any way except in rhythm with Sebastian's hand. After much struggling Clary finally gets out, "Sebastian…"

"Hmm," he mumbles from his place at her neck.

"Sebastian… you need to stop… mmm… please. I don't want this."

"You sure, sweet sister?" In response he finds her spot and rubs it methodically, provoking a scream of pleasure. His hand moving down her hip shifts to his belt buckle and he slowly unclips it as he moves his mouth to hers and gently kisses her.

Clary hears the belt drop to the floor but before Sebastian can get the button open she hears a terse, "Jonathon!"


	2. Jace and Jonathon

Sebastian stops his movements and goes rigid but doesn't turn around. He draws back from her and gives her a look as if to say _Can you believe this?_ Clary is left panting and gasping for breath, the new rune still pulsing. She's grateful for the interruption, she's scared to think what Sebastian would have done to her if the tall, broad shadow hadn't stepped in and it scared her more to think next time she might not be so lucky.

Sebastian rolls off his sister and sits up on the bed. He sees the shadow for Valentine, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, he does not look mad at finding them this way just irritated. "Didn't I tell you to let your poor sister adjust before you bombard her?"

There goes any hope Clary thought that Sebastian was lying when he said Valentine had approved the strengthening of his bloodline. This settles a leaden weight in Clary's stomach as the pulses fade and she is left staring open mouthed at the ceiling. Sebastian just blows out an annoyed breath, "Yes Father. I just got carried away."

Clary is still lying on the bed in shock, the rune now stopped its pulsing completely but still dark and black on her skin. She doesn't know what just happened and she would hate to look back at it now. Repulsed by her involuntary actions she sits up, conscious that she is in nothing but her panties and bra in front of both her father and brother.

Sebastian looks nothing if not pleased with himself as he looks over at his sister, in nothing but lacy lingerie, even if he was just scolded by his father. He can see the effects of the rune and his touch and she hates it. She needs to get away and there is little chance she'll be attending dinner let alone be able to stomach it. Sebastian stands to collect his clothes.

Clary swings her legs off the bed trying to reach for her pants.

"Dinner is in half an hour and I expect you both to be present," he looks them up and down but not with disgust, but as if he were admiring his two best accomplishments which in a certain light he is, "And decent if it doesn't trouble you."

He stays in the doorway looking for conformation. Clary ignores him and tries to stand but her encounter with Sebastian has left her legs wobbly and weak, her knees buckle under her. Before she hits the ground Sebastian catches her and gathers her mostly naked form in his arms and presses her against his bare chest. The contact of his skin causes the rune on her collarbone to flare up again and sends more pulses through her body. She gasps.

Sebastian looks towards his father, "I'll get her cleaned up and we'll both be downstairs by dinner."

"I expect as much." He pauses then adds, " Jonathon, I'm aware it's a permanent rune but put a Mute on it so she doesn't draw attention every time your hand brushes her." And with that Valentine turns on his heel and leaves. Sebastian looks down at Clary's shaking form and kisses her once more. He carefully carries her out into the hall and down two doors to his room.

_A permanent rune? Every time he brushes my hand?_ Did he mean that Clary would have to live with this inebriating rune shooting pleasure shots through her every time her brother touched her? She might as well jump out a window now.

Sebastian had entered his room and crossed to the bathroom, placing Clary on the marble counter as he went over to turn on the shower. As soon as her brother lets go of her the rune immediately stops its affects, slowly fading but not leaving her skin.

"Are you going to shower or am I going to have to do it for you?" Sebastian asks, cocking an eyebrow.

This pulls Clary out of her stupor as she shouts, "No!" Then lowers her voice as a smile spreads across Sebastian's face, "I mean, I can do it myself." She slides off the counter and edges past her brother. If this rune is permanent she is going to avoid as much contact as possible. "Now get out so I can take a shower."

"I'd much rather stay and watch. Since our last chance got cut short but don't worry there will be plenty of time for that later," he says lowering his voice.

"Out!" Clary points towards the door as steam begins to fog the mirror.

Sebastian shrugs and stalks out into his bedroom. Clary slams the door shut hunting for a lock but doesn't find one. "Great," she mutters to herself.

She walks back over to the shower, shedding her bra and undies then steps under the stream of hot water. She quickly washes everything twice, feeling especially dirty after what just happened and gets out, wrapping herself in a towel.

After patting dry, she ties her damp hair up and looks around only, to her horror, does she realize her clothes were left in the other room. Great. What was she supposed to do, go to dinner in a towel. Not that she was planning on going.

Either way she is not sitting in Sebastian's room, with him watching, in nothing but a towel. She walks over to the door and cracks it open. She sees Sebastian laying back on his bed with his feet hanging over the edge but as soon as he heard the door crack open he sat up and stared at the red head peeking out from behind the door.

"Sebastian, I need some clothes," she says timidly afraid of what the comment might provoke.

"Of course you do, little sister," he says getting up and walking over to shove open the bathroom door. He grabs her wrist, making the rune flare momentarily, and drags her out into his bedroom, sitting her down on his plush bed. "Wait right here, I'll be back."

With that he strides out the door, still wearing only his pants. Clary gets up from the bed as soon as he's gone. She wanders around his room, opening drawers, feeling along the walls, looking for anything that might help her escape. To her dismay she found nothing but books, papers and men's underthings. Sebastian apparently has purple underwear but other than that his color scheme is all greys, blacks and whites.

Sebastian strides in a few minutes later to find Clary moving along the wall, running a hand over the gray paint. "Admiring the paint job?"

Clary jumps startled at her brother's appearance and nearly drops her towel. She catches it and firmly ties it back under her arms. "Maybe," she says lightly, hoping he didn't suspect anything.

"Well, I think I have a few _jobs_ that will impress you a lot more, little sister," he says with a dirty grin.

Clary shudders and says, "Did you get clothes?"

"Yes," Sebastian says and unfurls a narrow gown of dark blue silk dotted with white, taken in at the waist and falling to about her ankle, no straps.

Clary takes a step back, "No way, I'm not wearing some skinny ball gown to a dinner I'm not even going to attend!"

Sebastian steps further into the room and kicks the door shut. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Clarissa. It's either this or the towel."

"I'll stick with the towel, thanks."

"At least put on some underwear," he says holding put a pair of pure black panties and a strapless bra.

Clary glares at her brother and the fact that he picked out a bra and panties for her but she walks up to him and snatches them out of his hand. Turning, she heads back into the bathroom and closes the door. She drops her towel and pulls on the underwear. She rewraps the towel around her and walks back out.

Sebastian is still standing by the door as if preventing her escape and the dress hung on the door handle. "Really sticking with the towel?" he asks.

"Yep."

"Wrong answer." He lunges for her and knocks her to the floor, pinning her there. The rune flares but Clary tries her best to ignore it as she struggles under Sebastian who is quickly and successfully sliding the dress up her slender figure until it sits on her perfectly.

"Damn it Sebastian! Get it off! I told you I'm not going," she yells weakly, the rune still influencing her, as Sebastian hops up and pulls her up along with him.

"Well if you don't go I'll have to drag you and I don't think Father will be too pleased to have his guests see his son drag in his kicking daughter." He cocks an eyebrow.

"Excuse me! What guests?" Clary protests as she tries to tear the gown off but it doesn't seem to be moving.

"My demon Shadowhunters of course. This is still my war and I'm going to win. Father is just a minor bump that will soon be gone."

"If you're going to dinner, where are your clothes?" she asks momentarily pausing her attempts to peel the wretched dress off.

"In my closet. You're welcome to peek if you want," he jokes striding over to his closet and leaving the door cracked as an invitation.

Clary remains where she is, dreading the moment Sebastian will drag her to the dinner to face all those traitor Shadowhunters. After a minute Sebastian walks out in a fitted black and white tux with his hair still tousled but somehow managing to make it look as though he did it on purpose. He carries a pair of silver flats with him.

Clary decides to take the joke, "You have girl shoes in your closet?"

"Only the best for my sister and mine are the best."

Wow, did he turn that one around to smack her in the face. He bends down to place the shoes on her small feet then stands back up to untie her hair, letting it flow down her shoulders. She's hit with the memory of the first time Jace did that. When they were going to Magnus's party and he had taken the clip out of her hair.

The thought almost made her cry and her insides twist with loneliness. All she had now was an abusive brother and a father who was supposed to be dead. Wonderful family she has.

Sebastian pulls out a stele and Clary immediately backs up, remembering the last two times Sebastian used his stele. He wasn't coming near her with that thing.

"What are you doing?" she asks cautiously.

"Oh relax, I'm muting your _beati_ rune," he says and before Clary can pull away Sebastian grips her shoulder, drawing an extension of the rune. The little waves of pleasure die down to almost nothing but she can still feel it, waiting to break free and wreak havoc.

"What did you put on me? You said it was a _beati _rune, I've never heard of it."

"Well, it's my special rune I had made just for you sweet sister. The rune causes little amounts of pleasure to seep into your system at the touch of the person who applied it. Then it triples the physical pleasure that person gives you." He says all this as if he didn't just claim he was pretty much forcing Clary to be… not exactly happy but feel pleasure every time he just brushes up against her? That's despicable.

"And you said it's permanent?"

"I never said that." He smirks.

"Fine, Valentine said it was permanent. Is it?"

"Possibly," he says crossing his arms across his chest.

_Great_. "I'm still not going to the dinner."

Sebastian just shrugs and dips down to throw Clary over his shoulder. He walks out the door with Clary shouting at him, "Sebastian! Put me down! I'm not going!"

"It's Jonathon with guests over… in fact call me Jonathon all the time. I love how it rolls off your lips."

"Fine!" she spits. "Put me down, _Jonathon!_ Right now!"

"No can do little sister and if you're going to continue screaming I'll put another rune of quietude on you."

This shuts Clary up instantly. She despises those runes, robbing her ability of speech and now both her father and brother have applied them to her. Again what a caring family she has. Jonathon carries her down a maze of halls, taking so many turns Clary loses count and ends up picking at the back of Jonathon's tux as he makes his way to the dining room.

"Stop that. You're going to unravel it," Jonathon chides from behind her.

"What else am I supposed to do?" Clary fires back.

"Be a good girl and actually walk to dinner with your brother."

Clary lets out a sigh, it was getting rather uncomfortable, "Fine. Put me down."

Jonathon puts her down but loops his arm through hers and they continue towards the dining room, Jonathon guiding them.

"Is the arm thing necessary? It's not like I can run away, I don't know where I'm going," she says trying to gain space between her and Jonathon. Even though the _beati _rune was muted she could still feel it bumping around just beneath the surface of her skin and it was beginning to irritate her.

"And you would run away all the same." Jonathon replied. Yes, he was right. As soon as Jonathon let her go she was going to bolt, no matter where she was going, just as long as it was away from him.

They stop in front of a set of oaken double doors. Jonathon leans down to whisper in Clary's ear, "Ready?"

"I guess," she mumbles.


	3. Sweet Dreams and Terrible Reality

Jonathon pushes open the door and they both stride in to the well-lit dining room. A long, thick, redwood dining table dominated the tall ceilinged room with crystal chandeliers hanging at two-yard intervals.

"Here they are," announces Valentine to his many guests. Jonathon drags Clary to the two vacant seats to the right of Valentine. Sitting down, Clary takes in the faces of the demon Shadowhunters.

All the faces are vaguely familiar and she remembers seeing them in the Glass City when Valentine had supposedly died. She sees Amatis sitting across from her, sitting as straight as a board. Those blue eyes cold, hard and emotionless. Sorrow strikes Clary, sorrow for Luke who has lost his sister.

She sees men and women from their late teens to their early forties. All of them dressed in romance finery and all hold themselves with an air of grace.

"You all know Jonathon and his sister Clarissa, my children," Valentine says from the head of the table. Everyone nods in acknowledgement of the man who turned them into what they are. They don't view themselves as demons though; they view themselves as superior to the original Shadowhunters. Better in every way.

"Well I have a lot to catch up on. Let the first course be served." Valentine snaps his fingers loudly as servants flood in from side doors, carrying trays with silver hoods on them. They sweep in and place the trays on the table in front of everyone and leave, taking the silver hoods with them.

Clary inhales sharply as she sees the first course. Clary remembers seeing the plants that make up the salad in front of her. Jonathon is clearly ignoring her, wrapped up in bragging his accomplishments to their father. Clary saw this plant that night in the greenhouse, when Jace had first kissed her. The round apple shaped leaves had been drowned out by the midnight flowers but after they had dulled Clary had seen the rounded leaves, lying in bundles in the trees next to the flowers.

Jace. Was he even looking for her? Did he know she was gone? She doesn't know how long she's been gone but it had to have been long enough for them to have noticed, right? She remembers how his lips had first felt, they were soft and gentle and experienced. They had caressed her while his hands had moved to her hips to pull her against him.

She feels as though she might burst into tears. Her chest aches with sadness that only Jace can resolve but Jace isn't here. She'll probably never see him again, never see his brilliant smile or feel his rough hands caress her, feel his soft lips brush hers. She gathers the napkin that had been placed on her lap, muttering, "Excuse me," as she stood and walked out of the dining hall.

She can feel the many stares of the traitors, wondering where one of their rulers are going so abruptly. Clary ignores them and continues to the doors. She looks back once to see Jonathon and Valentine still deep in conversation. She wonders how long it will take her brother to look past his own ego and see she's gone. She hope his ego is big enough that he won't notice until much later. It will give her time alone and maybe find her way around this maze.

As soon as her feet hit the carpeted hall, tears spilled over onto her cheeks and down to her dress. She walks blindly until she finds the hall with the bedrooms. Stumbling over her skirts, she leans on the wall for support. She stops and rests her head on the wall, choking back silent sobs.

Was she ever going to see Jace, her mom, Luke, Simon, Isabelle or even Alec again? Would she ever be able to go back to her loving family and not the imposters who share a blood tie and call themselves just that?

She's given no time to sort through her questions as strong hands grip her shoulders and spin her around to face Jonathon, who stares at her with mounting concern hidden by the obvious anger at her departure.

"What are you doing?" Jonathon asks quietly.

"What do you care? All you want is sex. Why would you care what I do in my free time?" Clary sobs. She tries to pull Jonathon's hands from her shoulders but he tightens his grip and pulls her closer.

Jonathon fixes her with a glare, "I'm still your brother Clarissa. I care about my sister's well-being."

"If you actually cared you would have asked 'what's wrong' not 'what are you doing' like I'm some child gone wandering."

"That's true, but I'm not just your brother," he says and leans down to brush a kiss against Clary's lips. Clary has a fleeting memory of Jace leaning down to do just that and sobs harder.

Confused, Jonathon hoists the sobbing Clary up in his arms and carries her towards his room. Clary wraps her arms around Jonathon's neck and buries her face in his neck. If Jonathon had grown up with Clary he would have done this countless times. When she scraped her knee or sprained her ankle. No, Valentine had to burn down the manor and take the chance Clary had at a normal Shadowhunter life. Instead she is stuck with this Jonathon, bent on doing the deed with her but confusingly acting like a normal brother sometimes.

Inside his room, Jonathon kicks off his shoes and walks over to the bed. With Clary still curled in his arms he carefully lies down and settles her on his lap. He strokes her hair as she curls into him. "Shh, I'm here, Clary. It's okay."

Clary sniffles and says, "Don't you have another bedroom that you could leave me in?"

"No and I'd never leave you," he says and tilts her chin up to look at her blazing green eyes. "I belong to you as you belong to me."

"You're delusional if you believe that," she says looking up at Jonathon through red-rimmed eyes.

He leans down and draws her in for a long, deep kiss. Clary's too tired to fight so she endures it. After he pulls away he says, "Go to sleep now, little sister. You need it."

"Fine but I'm sleeping on the floor… and I'm taking your pillow." She grabs the pillow from behind Jonathon and slips onto the floor. No way was she willingly sharing a bed with Jonathon, not after what happened earlier.

Placing the pillow on the floor, she turns on her side and closes her weary eyes, wishing she were back in Jace's bed before his heavenly fire, snuggled close to him and dreaming peacefully.

Eventually she drifts off into sleep while Jonathon lies on his bed, not believing he just had his pillow stolen by his little sister.

Jace wraps his arms around Clary and she presses further into his warm body.

"Morning," he says as Clary turns to face him. Her face lights up as she sees her golden lion staring down at her.

"Morning," she replies back. She has a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she knows it was because of her dream but the harder she tries to remember the further it slips away. She lets it go as Jace leans down and pulls her into a deep kiss.

Something on her collarbone heats and pleasurable fire runs through her body. She lets a moan escape and presses herself further into Jace.

"I love you," she says.

Jace smiles against her, "I love me too."

Clary lightly hits his shoulder. "But I love you more," he amends.

Jace rolls over and kneels over her, bending down to cup her face with his hand. His other hands brushes between her legs and more pleasure coils in her stomach and she arches into him.

"I love you so much," she says as Jace leans back and pulls off his shirt revealing his beautiful, tanned, toned skin. She runs her hands down his abdomen, pulling a moan from Jace.

He works his hands under Clary's shirt and pulls it off as he trails kisses down her throat. Clary can feel the coil tightening as Jace slips his hand inside her pants and runs his hand over her center.

Clary lets out another moan and she pulls Jace's hot body down onto her. Jace teases her through the fabric of panties.

"Jace, don't be such a tease," Clary whines as Jace moves down her chest, kissing her stomach.

"But that's part of the fun," he whispers against her stomach. He moves the fabric of her panties and rubs his finger on her, stimulating the coil to tighten even further as Jace moves his mouth back up to hers and presses his velvety lips to hers.

Clary moves her hands down Jace's chest, tracing his V-line to the button of his jeans. She pulls the button through the crease and pushes his pants down his legs. Jace returns the favor and unbuttons her jeans and pulls them off her.

The coil in Clary's stomach is as tight as she thinks it can get but it sits in her stomach, begging to be released as Jace moves down her body towards her core.

As he gets closer his touch gets lighter and lighter until Clary is left in the darkness. She opens her eyes, looking for Jace but finds nothing but black. Her heart sinks as her dream comes back to her, though to her dismay, it wasn't a dream.

Clary keeps her eyes closed as now familiar waves of pleasure shot through her body. She doesn't quite remember where she is so she enjoys the now pulsing pleasure. She shifts her body on the softness beneath her and clenches her fist in a lax material and moves to press herself against the warmth lying next to her.

As her pleasure builds she opens her eyes to the black tuxedo her brother was wearing last night… and is still wearing. Clary pulls back and sits up to look around her brother's room. So it wasn't a dream. Jonathon really had taken her from her home, taken her from Jace and her mother, Simon and Luke, all of her friends she had come to know in the Shadow world. She feels a cool breeze on her legs as she swings them off the bed. Looking down she sees the blue ball gown had been removed and replaced by one of her brothers shirts.

The baggy shirt hangs down her chest, revealing a little of the black strapless bra and it goes down to her mid-thigh. Confused, Clary looks over at her still sleeping brother, still in his tux. If he changed her, why didn't he change out of that tux? Surely it wasn't comfortable. Another thing that bothered Clary was that Jonathon had changed her clothes while she was sleeping and had moved her against her will to the bed.

Clary falls back on the bed, still exhausted and unsure of how much sleep she got. Her head rests on her brothers thigh but not directly touching his skin so the _beati _rune stays dormant. She closes her eyes as she listens to her brother's soft breathing. Her muscles ache from her excretion that Jonathon put her through yesterday.

She misses Jace terribly, it promotes an ache in her chest but is replaced with a buzz as Jonathon runs his hand down her arm. Clary pulls away and sits up. Not looking at him she says, "I told you I wanted to sleep on the floor. Not with you."

"But you looked so uncomfortable on the floor," Jonathon complained, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap.

Clary struggles against him but gives up the fruitless fight and goes rigid against her brother, not giving him the satisfaction of her relaxation. "That's when you put a blanket on me not change my clothes and put me in your bed."

Clary tries to pull away again but Jonathon keeps his iron grip on her waist and kisses her neck. The contact makes the _beati _rune pulse and she melts back into Jonathon.

Clary pushes against the feelings being forced into her body but Jonathon slides his hand down her leg and slips under her shirt to her panties. "Mmm… Jonathon… don't. Please, not now."

He kisses her jaw and brushes against the cotton of her panties. "I guess you're right. Father wants to speak to you… but I could make an excuse… and we could stay here."

He buries his face in her neck and continues teasing her. That was a cruel ultimatum Clary thought. Either stay here and do the unspeakable, continuously tortured by Jonathon and his new rune or face the wrath of her father.

"I…" she begins but Jonathon presses against her pleasure point sending a tidal wave of emotion crashing down on Clary. She gasps, "Jonathon…"

He smiles at his sister, satisfied that his touch pulled his name from her lips.

"…Stop," Clary blurts out, "I'll speak to father I mean Valentine."

Clary finally manages to pull away and she bolts off the bed. "I'll talk to Valentine," she says facing Jonathon who looks as though he had his favorite toy taken from him. With this new rune Clary supposes she is his new toy.

Jonathon stands and looks his little sister up and down, "Well I suppose you'll be needing some clothes then."

He strides over to his closet and pushes open the door. Clary stands by his dresser as she hears him rummaging around in the probably insurmountable lines of clothing. Clary has a vague idea as to what Valentine wants to talk about. She walked out on his dinner last night. Valentine doesn't take lightly to rude remarks or actions. She'll probably have her whipped or beaten. Then use her for whatever he originally wanted. Like the cruel and twisted man he was.

Swallowed in her own thoughts she doesn't notice Jonathon emerging from the closet carrying a pair of jeans and knee high boots. He snaps his fingers under Clary's nose and she looks up to see his face inches from hers.

"Zoning out, little sister?" he asks.

"None of your business." She looks down at his hands and asks, "Where's a shirt?"

He looks down at her chest, "You're wearing it."

Clary's ears turn red from embarrassment, "What? I'm not wearing your shirt to talk to Valentine! You can see my bra!"

He shrugs, "It's that or _just_ your bra. Which I wouldn't mind at all."

Clary growls and snatches the jeans and boots out of his hands, pulling the jeans on she gives Jonathon a killer glare as she zips up the boots. She pulls the shirt back so it is tight against her body and knots in at her back. The shirt still dips dangerously low but covers her bra.

"Put a mute on the _beati_ rune," Clary demands.

Jonathon runs a finger along her neck and down her chest, making the rune burst with pleasure. "That would defeat the purpose of it," he whispers.

He slides an arm around her waist and guides her out the door. In the hallway he turns right and leads her out into the long foyer and down a corridor with windows lining one side. The view looks out on the beach she saw from the bedroom window and the blue waves still eat at the sand. Clary tries to drag her feet but Jonathon's immense strength propels her along the hall to another set of double oak doors but these ones are bathed on a dark red stain. It reminds Clary of dried blood.

What a happy thought to have as Jonathon pushes open the door and they walk into a study with a large desk behind which is sitting Valentine looking over papers piled on the desk. On the side facing him sits a couch with plush cushions and red pillows.

"Morning Father," Jonathon says as he seats himself and Clary down on the couch. Jonathon drapes an arm over Clary's shoulders and pulls her flush with him. She squirms uncomfortably but Jonathon keeps his hold tight, leaving her no wiggle room.

Valentine slowly looks up from his papers, his eyes gliding from Jonathon to Clary. He fixes his gaze on Clary, scrutinizing every inch of her. Finally after many silent, painful moments of his fiery gaze on Clary he looks at her green eyes and says, "What to do with you."


	4. The Blood of Demons and Angels

Valentine waits patiently for a response. He looks directly at her, demanding an answer from her. He expects her to deal her own punishment. Is this what Jonathon had to deal with? The cruelty of choosing your own punishment and having it carried out.

Clary sits silently, in shock. Jonathon makes an effort to soothe her by running a finger along arm. The waves of pleasure just confuse Clary further and she sits in silence staring at her father dumbfounded. After Clary doesn't respond Valentine turns to Jonathon, "Jonathon, since your sister seems to be at a loss of words choose for her. You know the routine."

Jonathon's hand tightens on her shoulder as he responds calmly, "She should be punished for her negligence." He shrugs like this is no big deal. "But not so severely as to hinder her ability to aid in the war."

Valentine ponders this for a moment, his eyes flicking between his son, lounging calmly on the couch, and his daughter, rigid with fear and looking at the hands curled in her lap. She wonders if she should have stayed in the bedroom with Jonathon. At least he would have been gentle… she thinks.

"Wise choice, twenty lashes for embarrassing Jonathon and me in front of our acolytes," Valentine says. He then turns to Jonathon with a look of disapproval on his face. "You will receive five for not being able to keep your sister in check."

All the color drains from Clary's face as Jonathon's fingers dig into her shoulder. She can't tell if it's from dread or excitement or something else.

"W-what? Jonathon didn't do anything," she stammers. He couldn't whip his own daughter! Not to mention Jonathon couldn't have stopped her if he wanted to. She still sits in Jonathon's iron grip and she squirms to remove herself.

"Jonathon take your sister down and deal her punishment. I'll be down later to give you yours." Valentine says all this coolly, blind to the fact he just told his son to whip his sister. Jonathon is used to being whipped, she knows from the scars on his back but Clary doesn't think she'll be able to withstand the pain of twenty lashes, especially if Jonathon was the one giving them. His mere strength alone would probably snap her spine with a flick of the whip.

"But all I did was leave! I'm sorry! I-I wasn't feeling well! Don't make him whip me, please!" Clary screams, she stands to look down at her father who has returned to his work.

Valentine ignores her. "Jonathon, now."

Jonathon stands up behind her and starts to push her to the door. She struggles against Jonathon, screaming profanities at Valentine as her brother is forced to pick her up and carry her out.

"You sick, twisted bastard! I wish you were dead!" Clary screams but the door has already shut and Jonathon is walking back down the hall and down another dark corridor. Clary kicks and screams, begging Jonathon to let go.

"Please Jonathon! Don't do this! I don't want to go through the pain you had to go through, please!" Clary pleads. Clary is still too deep in shock to have tears.

Jonathon ignores her and continues down the dark hall lined with barred doors. He opens one and walks in. The chamber is lined with walls of weapons, knifes and daggers, whips, ropes, and chains. Clary kicks harder, hitting Jonathon on the leg but he doesn't falter, just walks over to the weapon-lined wall. He plucks a length of rope from it and walks to the center of the room.

He sets Clary down and grabs her wrists, tying them together. She looks up at his eyes; they're blank and dark, no emotion seeping through whatsoever. Clary grabs the front of Jonathon's shirt. "Please," she whispers, "Please don't do this."

Jonathon just throws the other rope end through a hook in the ceiling and pulls it taut. Clary's feet now dangle an inch above the ground and can already feel her arms spasm with the effort of supporting her weight. Her arms are now held above her exposing her back. The tied shirt lifts up with her arms and half of her mid-drift is exposed to the muggy, dungeon air.

Jonathon ties the rope to another hook in the opposite wall, securing Clary's stretched body. Clary's given up screaming and sobbing; now she stares blankly at the ground, refusing to give Jonathon the satisfaction of her tortured mind.

She thought Jonathon was getting better, that he was starting to be kind to her but then he did this. He let himself be ordered around by their psychopath of a father and she ends up being tied in a torture chamber with Jonathon about to whip her. She hates her father, hopes he will burn in hell but she had only disliked Jonathon. This was before he dragged her down here, now a fiery rage and hatred has built, specially lit for her brother. She'll never trust him or like him. She had thought there was hope of redemption for him because he was only this way because of their father but now she sees there is no going back, no redemption in sight for him.

Jonathon walks back over to the weapon-covered wall. He plucks a leather whip off the hook and examines it with his night vision eyes then swings it through the air, testing it. Clary can barely see in the dark torture chamber but she can sense her brother move to stand behind her. Her nerves are all tingling with what is to come and her muscles are tight with fear which will just make this hurt worse, to have the whip cut through muscle. Jonathon leans close to her ear and she thinks she can hear a smile but isn't sure.

"This hurts me more than it will you," he says.

Clary draws a steady breath bracing herself for the whip, "I doubt that."

She hears Jonathon bring the whip up then brings it sailing down towards her back. The first lash hits in a flash of white-hot pain and Clary bits her lip to keep from screaming. Her body arches away as she feels a sheet of blood pour down her back, staining the shirt and her jeans. Jonathon brings the whip up again and brings it down to cross her other whip mark. Clary bites her lip harder until she tastes blood. The pain is blinding and it clouds her vision making the already dark room grow darker.

She clenches her fingers around the rope, her nails digging into her hands. Jonathon brings the whip down another time and the splash of pain it brings causes her to scream out into the darkness but she snaps her mouth closed and holds back a whimper. Her back is threaded with burning fire and pain, snaking up into her shoulders. The hot blood pouring down her back is taking her strength with it. She knows her jeans are now ruined and the shirt is in tatters.

Jonathon deals six more lashes, each delivered on a new strip of skin to keep the pain fresh, each dragging a new scream from her. Clary is bracing herself for the next lash when Jonathon comes around to her front. He grabs her chin and turns it towards him, Clary's eyes barely open. She's weak from blood loss and the pain is so blinding it rings in her ears.

"What did you just say?" Jonathon asks with a questioning and suspicious look on his face.

Clary's confused, what did she say? She replays the last lash, all she remembers is the leather biting into her skin and a new curtain of blood pouring down her aching back. What did she say… she remembers now.

"Brother, please," she repeats weakly for him now.

Jonathon searches her face looking for any sign that she didn't mean it or is playing some trick on him. When all he finds is pain and sorrow and pleading he immediately drops the whip and unties her hands. She slumps forward into Jonathon and she whimpers in pain. Her back is on fire and she can't breathe without relighting another blaze. Jonathon carefully slips one arm under her thighs and another across her shoulders, avoiding the whip marks. He lifts her up, causing Clary to let out a strangled cry.

She hooks one arm around Jonathon's neck and the other rests on her stomach. The pain is still present but is muted by the _beati_ rune pulsing, the pleasure dulls the pain but does nothing to relieve it. Clary hangs her head back, slowly losing consciousness but gathers enough energy to say, "You didn't finish." He only whipped her ten times, Valentine had called for twenty.

"Ten was enough," Jonathon says curtly. Clary doesn't believe him but she lets her mind turn to the still burning hatred for Jonathon. Clary can feel more blood dripping down her back and onto the floor as Jonathon carries her back to the foyer and turns to the hall containing the bedrooms. By the time he reaches his bedroom his hands are slick and painted red with Clary's blood. He walks into his bedroom and locks the door behind him. Slowly he places Clary on his bed, facedown so her back is bared to him.

Clary's vision clouds with red as her brother rips open the tattered shirt, causing Clary to cry out and a new wave of blood to spill down her back. Jonathon walks to the bathroom to grab some damp towels. He places them on Clary's back as he pulls out his stele. Clary flinches away, causing more blood to flow.

Jonathon strokes her hair, "Shh, it won't hurt for long sweet sister. Just relax."

He draws back one of the already blood soaked towels and inks an iratze on her shoulder blade. The pain immediately begins to fade but Clary has lost too much blood to keep conscious as her brother cleans her ravished back. The last thing she hears is Valentine's voice booming through the halls calling her brother's name.

"Jonathon!" he hears his father call. Clary has already passed out and Jonathon removes the dripping towels to throw them on the floor. He places new ones on his sister's back and walks to the door. He unlocks it and steps into the hall, he locks it again with his key as he strides towards the dungeon where his father is surely waiting.

Jonathon hadn't wanted to whip his sister, though he did enjoy hearing her screams. She surely hates him now, he was beginning to see her loosen and grow used to him but his father had just ruined his plans. Now there is almost no chance of his dear sister trusting him. At least Valentine is only here for a few weeks and then Lilth is sending him back to hell where he will rightfully burn for the rest of eternity.

Jonathon had asked Lilth to temporarily bring Valentine back so he could get all the formulas and studies he had developed over the years. He would then use them to execute his plan but Valentine wasn't aware that his return was temporary so Jonathon had to play along as the obedient son he had been and that included taking the punishments Valentine would surely deal.

Again Jonathon hadn't wanted to whip Clary but if he hadn't his father would have gotten suspicious if he didn't hear her screams or see the physical evidence as a result of the whipping and further punished Jonathon. Jonathon has been letting Valentine believe that he came up with the idea of using Clary's angel blood to win the war. Jonathon had just planted that idea for Clary, so she would only worry about one thing with him instead of having more reasons to fear him.

Jonathon truly loves his sister, in every way, but she can't seem to grasp that they are like polar opposites, completely different, yet one in the same. Clary tries to hide that black heart of hers but Jonathon knows it's there. She is just like him and if she would see that they would be unstoppable, inseparable. That angel boy of hers had his claws so deep in her that she even called out his name in her sleep. If it wasn't for him his sister would be his, completely and wholly right now.

He had originally planned on lashing Clary the full twenty times but he had stopped in shock when the word brother had fallen from her thin lips. She had finally acknowledged him as her brother fully and it had made him stop because for her to utter those words she must have been in terrible pain. She would rather die than have called him brother but she had and Jonathon had carried her off to his room to heal her and squeeze out payment for the ten less lashes in a way that would be entertaining to Jonathon.

He couldn't think about that now though, he had to take his five lashes for letting Clary walk out on dinner. It had taken a few moments to notice the absence of his sister and soon to be lover. He had abruptly excused himself and raced down the hall in search of her, scared she might find the door. No, he had found her crying in the bedroom hall and had taken the opportunity to sweep her off her feet.

Walking into the dark hall he finds Valentine standing in the first chamber on the left with his arms crossed, waiting for him.

"Where's your sister?" he asks impatiently.

"Healing. She got her lashes," Jonathon snaps, careful not to say how many she got.

"Good. Her mother never taught her proper obedience." He cocks his head, motioning for Jonathon to stand in the center of the room. He moves to the center and stands in front of the table that was brought in and is laid out with multiple torture weapons. Jonathon reaches behind him and grips the collar of his shirt to pull it up and off. He then reaches down and holds the edge of the table.

Valentine picks up the demon metal whip laying on the wood. Jonathon admired Clary for not screaming the first time the whip touched her flesh and was further impressed when she didn't scream the second time but she could not hold it back forever and had eventually screamed the third time he had brought the leather whip down.

Jonathon braces himself against the table as the metal whip sails down and burns through his skin, right through his old scars. He lets out a grunt of pain but stifles the rest as his fingers dig into the wood of the table. His father had done this too many times for him to count. He had grown accustomed to the ever present throb of the whip scars.

Valentine brings the whip down a second and third time all the while the two men say nothing. Jonathon's black blood drips down his back as the last two lashes are delivered.

"Next time make sure you have your sister under control," Valentine says wiping the whip off and flinging Jonathon's dark blood on the floor.

"Yes, Father," Jonathon grits through his teeth. He bends to pick up his shirt and walks back to his beautiful, injured angel waiting for him on his bed.


	5. The Fires of Heaven and Hell

Clary wakes to a dull pain still throbbing through her back. She can tell that the wounds are healed but they are still extremely tender and feel as fragile as a newborn's skin. She sits up on the bed and looks over to see Jonathon sprawled out next to her, his back covered in his black blood and whips marks cut deep into his skin. He must have crashed before he dressed his wounds.

The least Clary could do was clean him up. Besides he was soaking the mattress. Therefore, she carefully gets up off the bed and walks over to the bathroom to pick up some damp cloths. Sitting on the bedside, Clary gently dabs at the glowing wounds, trying to clean away the dark black of her brother's blood. She would use an iratze but apparently before Jonathon passed out he hid his stele.

Clary continues wiping at the ugly wounds, staining the white towel black. She returns to the bathroom and rummages around for bandages. Opening a deep drawer she finds a roll of white bandages and some gauze. Walking back over to her brother she places the end of the roll at the top of his back and wraps it around his chest. She has to bury her hand under his body to bring the bandage around his chest and it makes the _beati _rune pulse to her annoyance, she quickly pulls away, finished.

Why did I do that? She asks herself. She's supposed to hate him… but seeing him lay there dripping black blood onto his sheets, grimacing in pain every time he took too deep a breath. She couldn't not do something; he was her brother after all, no matter how much she denied it.

He still whipped her though, whipped her with what looked like no remorse, no regret. Maybe he had even enjoyed it. The thought makes her want to throw up. How could someone enjoy whipping a person? Enjoy the sensation of the whip digging into the victim's skin and watch the blood well and spill over.

Deep in thought she doesn't see Jonathon's arm come up and wrap around her waist, dragging her down on the bed with him. He moves her underneath him as she struggles against the faint pain of her back and rune on her collarbone flaring with Jonathon's touch.

He leans down and plants a deep kiss on her mouth. After what Clary thought was too long he draws back and whispers, "Thank you, sweet sister."

He kisses her neck and moves down her chest that she now realizes is bare save her bra, Jonathon had ripped off her shirt while cleaning her wounds. "You're not welcome Jonathon. You whipped me and I don't care if you did heal me," Clary says, straining against the powerful waves of pleasure that Jonathon's touch is provoking.

"I did what needed to be done so that our idiot father doesn't get suspicious," Jonathon says soothingly as his hands work down her naked torso.

What does that mean? Valentine would get… Clary tries to form words in her head but Jonathon's hand teasing in her pants is making it hard to concentrate. The only thing keeping her anchored to reality is the dull throb in her back, from her whips scars the ones Jonathon gave her.

Still weak from being her punishment Clary can do little against Jonathon toying with her. He explores her, all the while pressing against her spots, making the coli in her stomach turn harshly, causing a moan to escape.

"Jonathon…" she takes a deep breath, "Jonathon, not now. I would at least… like to… mmm… get out of bed for more than two minutes."

Jonathon brings his mouth back up to hers, pressing his soft, sure lips to her tender ones and eliciting one final moan he pulls back, bringing Clary up to sit in his lap.

"Alright," he says, still kissing her neck slowly, "To be continued. The next time you step in this room, I won't be so gentle." With a final kiss he pulls away, leaving Clary panting on the bed.

Jonathon walks into the bathroom and closes the door. "Oh thank the Angel," she mutters. His latest comment has guaranteed that Clary will not be setting foot in this room ever again. Clary carefully rolls off the bed and walks over to Jonathon's dresser. She finds a black shirt and pulls it on, tying it in her back. Her jeans are stained but there is no way she is venturing into Jonathon's closet.

Clary has to get out of this room, she can't stand one more minute with her brother teasing her and using her like a toy. She walks over to the bathroom door and presses her ear against it. She hears the shower running; she only has a minute or two because Jonathon takes quick showers. She runs over to the door and turns the handle but it's locked.

"Son of a…" Clary backs up hoping she has enough strength to do this in one blow. She pulls her booted foot back and slams it into the door. It gives with a loud crack and she races out into the hallway. She bolts into the foyer and turns down the one hall she hasn't been down. She flies past walls covered in old paintings and portraits, large tapestries hanging from gilded hooks. At the end of the hall she sees a set of tall double doors made of black wood, carved with runes to ward off demons and Downworlders. She slams into the door and flings it open.

A large field of emerald green grass stretches before her; desolate save for a few trees interspersed in the ocean of grass and the beach is behind her. She moves to put a foot out the door but hits a solid wall.

"What?" She steps back and hits the air with her fist. It meets an object that feels like solid stone. She hits it again, it doesn't budge, it has to be some kind of force field because the texture is as smooth as glass and no matter how many times she throws herself against it it doesn't waver.

She spins around, about to run off in another direction to find a different way to escape, but finds only Valentine standing before her, arms crossed on his chest and a smug look on his face.

"Dear, sweet Clarissa. I was just looking for you," he says shutting the door behind her and grabbing her arm to drag her towards the foyer and down a different corridor. Clary struggles against his grip but he's just like his son, iron grip. She digs her heels into the carpet but only succeeds in scuffing the it.

Valentine throws her into a dark room and shuts the door behind him. Flipping on a light that hangs from the center of the room, it illuminates what looks like a horror movie chair. One with leather straps for both arms and legs, a leg rest to prop up the victim's legs, and reclining so the bad guy is able to lay the victim flat to perform experiments.

Clary backs up in fear of the solitary chair, but only backs into Valentine who grips her arms and pins her down in the chair. She kicks out at Valentine but he only grabs her legs and straps them to the chair. Before she can undo them Valentine grabs one wrist and straps it palm up to the arm of the chair then does them same with the other. Clary chokes back a scream as Valentine walks to the dark side of the room and flips a switch revealing a table filled with beakers and burners, shelves piled with books and papers.

Valentine opens a drawer and pulls out a syringe. "I did a little research when I got back Clarissa. Your angel blood can provide the demon Shadowhunters with even more powerful abilities. Seeing as you let my other angel go I have to use you. The seraphic qualities of your blood will combust with the demonic qualities Jonathon gave them. This combustion will spur the nerves to move faster and the muscles to work harder."

Clary struggles against her restraints as Valentine puts the syringe into a beaker filled with black liquid and fills it halfway then walks over to crouch in front of Clary. "You see I know what a little angel blood will do to a demonic base but I'm not quite sure how demon blood will react with an angelic base. Seeing as you and Jace are the only two with enough angel blood to test and the next time Jonathon sees Jace he's going to kill him, you are my only test subject."

Clary's eyes widen in fear, realization donning on the syringes contents. "Don't you dare come near me with that thing!" She growls.

"Oh but I'm itching to find out. I've got the reactions narrowed down to the best and worst case scenario. The best case for me is that your angel blood will react similarly and you will become faster, stronger, and better at just about everything." Valentine runs his finger along the tip of the needle. "But the down fall is your entire body would be focused on killing the demon blood so I have to inject a substantial amount, this will cause you immense pain as your body first adjusts to the blood. The worst case scenario is that I inject you and your angel blood immediately over powers the demonic fluid and there is no change whatsoever, which would be very disappointing to both of us because then I would have to run more tests and experiments with you as the centerpiece." Valentine smile evilly. "Jonathon wasn't too happy about this idea but that was why I waited a bit so he could enjoy you before I started my experiments. Three days later here you are, here I am, and the answer to my question sits before me strapped to a medical chair."

Valentine wipes Clary's forearm with a sterilizer as he brings the needle, dripping with black blood just like Jonathon's, closer to her vein. "Let's begin shall we." With that he sticks the needle in and pushes on the plunger, shooting the black fluid into Clary's veins.

As soon as the first drop hits her blood stream it feels as though her entire body is being melted from the inside out. The pain's horrible; Jonathon whipping her seems like a ride in the park compared to the disabling pain caused now by the demon blood. It rips through her as a motorcycle would rip down a freeway, leaving in its path a feeling so terrible she thought it might crush her bones just by being present.

She lets out a blood-curdling scream as it works through her system and she struggles against the leather straps. Valentine had stood up and is now jotting something down in his notebook then comes closer to watch Clary as the demon blood settles in her system. She can still feel it burning through her but it has dulled just enough to where she can bear it.

The pain gone, she can feel her muscles pull taut and she almost manages to rip the leather straps but Valentine had accounted for that and made them extra thick. Her fingers twitch with the need to move, to run, maybe even to sucker punch Valentine because now he really deserved it. Even with the additional strength, Clary is left with her head hanging to the side, sweat pouring down her face and her panting as if she just ran twenty miles.

"How do you feel?" Valentine asks from the side.

"Like I've been run over by a flaming bus with snow chains," Clary spits in the direction of her father.

"Stop with the sarcasm Clarissa. Do you feel your muscles itching to break free, like you could run an Olympic track three times over?"

This time Clary just nods, swallowing hard, she tries to take in another deep breath but the demon blood flares up again, raking her body with pain and pulling another scream from her but then it fades completely. Leaving Clary feeling utterly hollow and completely drained of energy, she can't even move her fingers.

Clary hangs her head to her side as she watches through cracked eyes, Valentine walking back and forth, pondering his new discovery. "Hmm… that didn't last very long. Next time I'll have to inject you with more demon blood. Let's see if 30mls lasts for three minutes that's 10mls per minute so to last at least an hour I would have to inject 600mls. That is only for you though, Clarissa. I need to see how long it will last on the demonic Shadowhunters. I already know the affects but not the duration because I haven't had access to angel blood in a while but there you sit."

Valentine walks over to grab an empty blood bag and hangs it on the hook next to the chair as the lab door flies open and Clary sees a seething Jonathon standing in the doorway. His hair is still damp and his belt isn't buckled which means he must have either rushed out when he heard the door break or when Clary screamed. He marches over to his father and turns him around, staring him straight in the eye.

"You said you would wait. Look at her!" He gestures to Clary, barely conscious, strapped to the chair. "I had things planned for tonight but with her like this she'll be out until at least dinner and then she'll still be weak and in pain."

Valentine glares back at his son, "When has that ever stopped you Jonathon. I needed to run the tests and I need to run more tomorrow. Now if you don't move you can walk yourself to the dungeon and I'll come and whip you. Now move!"

Jonathon closes his mouth and stares daggers at his father's back as he inserts a needle into Clary's arm. The angel blood that flows through the tube into the bag is glowing pure gold, shining brightly in the dim room.

Jonathon leans over and brushes his finger along Clary's bared shoulder, with the intention of relieving some of his angel's pain. Clary's pains fades slightly as his touch sends pleasure coursing through her wrecked body. Jonathon runs his finger back and forth, further dulling the pain.

"Why is her blood gold?" Jonathon asks.

"Same reason yours is black. Her system just finished fighting off your blood Jonathon, so her angelic qualities are going to be more prominent for a while because her body will still be on high alert. Which is why I can't do any more tests today," Valentine replies.

Clary weakly watches as her blood fills the bag, watches her strength once again leave her. She hates her family. She hates Jonathon for taking her, Valentine for torturing her like this, even Jocelyn because she hid her from this life and maybe if she had grown up a Shadowhunter she wouldn't have been taken so easily in the park.

She hasn't even been able to rely on Jace or her friends completely. They continually kept secrets from her, putting themselves and her in danger. Maybe they weren't looking for her; maybe they thought it wasn't worth the trouble to go after one girl who was barely a Shadowhunter and risk themselves against people like Jonathon and Valentine.

A tear slips from her eye as the last drop needed fills the bag and Valentine removes the needle. Jonathon moves to remove the leather straps first from her wrists then her ankles. He then picks her up and holds her close to his chest.

"Are you done, Father?" Jonathon asks casually.

Valentine is busy working in his books and he waves Jonathon off. Jonathon looks down at Clary, as she fades into the in between of consciousness and sleep, still fully aware of her surroundings but not really. She can't tell what the look on his face is but as he steps out into the hallway she thinks she hears him whisper, "I'm sorry, my poor angel."


	6. The Chains of an Angel

Jonathon carries his sister's limp form through the castle halls. He knows she's still awake but just barely. He had been furious with his father, he had told him he would wait until Clary settled into a mostly normal rhythm here and so far that wasn't happening. She'd been woken up, then he had put his rune on her, been forced to a dinner she abruptly left, cried in the hallway, slept on his floor, been whipped, barely healed, tortured and now Jonathon was carrying her back to his room.

He had been in the shower when his sister had broken down his door in an attempt to escape. Jonathon had barely made it out of the shower when he saw her red hair fly around a corner and disappear. He'd hastily thrown on some clothes and raced after her. He thought he heard her at the door, struggling against the force field but when he arrived his angel was gone. He had no clue where she went before he heard her pained screams from his father's lab. Of course he would drag her off to experiment on, that was the only reason Valentine wanted Clary and Valentine had become extremely upset when he realized he couldn't go after Jocelyn because she was a Fairchild not a Morgenstern. Frankly Jonathon didn't want anything to do with his mother, so good riddance.

When Jonathon heard his sister's screams for a second time he had practically broken down the door to his father's lab. Rage burst in his chest as he saw his sweet angel strapped to a medical chair, barely conscious. In blind madness he had stormed in and wrenched his father around, demanding an explanation. Even though Valentine had said he wasn't, Jonathon knew he was going to be whipped for the treatment of his father.

He didn't care he just needed to get his sister away from their cruel father. Knowing he couldn't just take Clarissa without inciting anger in Valentine, he had laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, aware that the _beati_ rune would lessen his angel's pain. He could see in her face that some of the pain had left and now that she was safe in his arms, her face had assumed a serene look as her head lulled against his chest.

He was angry with Valentine for doing this to her, granted he was going to do it himself anyway but it would be by his hand, not his father's and he wouldn't have injected Clarissa with his blood. That was taking it a step too far, they didn't need to torture her to win the war they only needed her, her runes and her blood, nothing more.

Reaching his room he nudged open the door as Clarissa tried to paw at his shirt, barely audible she squeaks out, "No, no, not here. Please."

Jonathon was confused for a moment before he remembered his promise the next time his sister set foot in his room. Jonathon lies down on the still blood soaked bed, both his and Clarissa's blood mingling in the sheets; he lays her on top of him so she doesn't get blood on her. She shakes her head and mumbles something, trying to pull away but only succeeding in sinking further onto her brother.

"It's okay. I won't, not now, not when Valentine just put you through that." Jonathon wraps an arm around her waist and places a hand on her neck, forcing her to relax. Clary drops limply onto Jonathon's chest and he pulls her up so her head rests on his shoulder and he whispers assurances to her.

Eventually the pain fades and the tears start. Clary feels as though she has cried too much but she can do nothing to stop them from rolling down her cheeks to soak Jonathon's shirt.

"What did he do to me?" she sobs into his shoulder.

He brushes her hair from her face and says, "He was working his children to his advantage." Jonathon glares at the ceiling and hugs his sister tighter. "Don't worry he'll be gone in two days."

Jonathon moves his hand under Clary's shirt, causing more waves to crash through her and bringing down her stress level. It stops her crying but she keeps her face buried in his shirt. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jonathon leans his head close to Clary's ear, his hot breath blowing down her neck. "He's going back to hell little sister. We won't ever have to see him again."

Clary is unsure how she feels about this, with Valentine gone that leaves just her and Jonathon and the Angel knows what he'll do to her once he has no interruptions. Then if Valentine stays she'll be put through these horrible, grueling torture sessions everyday. Right now, she's leaning toward the chances of retaining her sanity with Jonathon.

"Good riddance," she mumbles into his shirt.

Jonathon chuckles and pulls Clary closer. "You and me both," he says.

Clary is about to fall asleep wrapped in her brother's embrace when Jonathon asks, "When was the last time you ate?"

She groans and turns her head to face his black eyes staring at her in question. "Apparently four days ago," she says remembering that Valentine had said she was here for three days and she hadn't eaten the morning she was taken. "I guess all the drama sort of robbed me of my appetite."

"No kidding, Clarissa! You need to eat, no wonder you're so drained!"

He places Clary on the bed and stands up. "Eww, don't leave me on the bloody bed. I don't know if you have aids!"

Jonathon looks back at his sister cringing in disgust. "If I did you would already have it remember? That was my blood daddy dearest stole. Besides that's as much as your blood as it is mine."

Clary's color drains at the memory of Valentine plunging the needle into her arm. The sight of her gold blood being sucked out of her arm to fill a plastic bag. She squirms uncomfortably.

"I'll be back in a minute with some food. Stay put this time; I'm still mad you broke my door."

Jonathon walks out of the room, leaving Clary lying on the blood soaked bed. She hadn't eaten four days. She had the chance at the dinner but then she had remembered Jace and everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. Honestly Clary wasn't hungry at all, being tortured rather has that effect on people.

Clary starts drifting into a dreamless sleep, worrying about what Valentine will do to her tomorrow and what Jonathon will do once she's healed. Jonathon, when he had come to take her from the lab, had seemed like he cared for Clary's wellbeing but that wasn't possible, all Jonathon wanted was the one thing she was never going to give him even if it kills her. Laying her head back on the pillow she can feel her bones sink into the bed, not wanting to move for a long time but that chance was taken when Jonathon walks back in to the room carrying a tray piled with toast, bacon, eggs and pancakes.

"Eat up little sister," Jonathon says placing the tray on the bed.

Clary stays lying down with her eyes shut, "Can't you change the bed sheets first?"

"Sure, you need to get up though," Jonathon says, knowing that Clary can't get up on her own.

Still too drained to put up resistance to her brother's teasing, she holds out her arms like a toddler asking to be picked up. Jonathon smiles, picks up and carries her over to the dresser where he deposits her and moves back to the bed to strip the sheets.

Clary watches as Jonathon strips the gray, bloody sheets from the bed and as they are thrown in a corner. Then he walks over to a smaller closet, a tall, narrow one, and opens it to pull a new set of black sheets and bed cover out. Jonathon quickly and neatly makes the bed and returns to the dresser for her.

He scoops her up as if she weighs no more than a feather and replaces her on the bed then sits himself down with the tray of food, placing it between them. Jonathon takes a piece of bacon and starts chewing on it.

Clary sits on the newly made bed blankly staring at the food. She wonders how Jonathon can go from whipping her, to healing her and then doing nothing to stop Valentine as he tortures his only daughter, then back to taking care of her. Why is she even tolerating being near him? He's keeping her prisoner here, in a sense he's tortured her himself with his ridiculous _beati _rune and his efforts to get her in bed. For Angel's sake her own brother whipped her!

"What did the bacon ever do to you?" Jonathon asks.

"What?"

"You're scowling at the bacon like it ran over your dog," he says tilting her chin up to look at him.

Clary pulls away and says, "I never had a dog, Jonathon."

"Well then what's wrong?"

Clary turns to glare at her brother, "_What's wrong?_ Jonathon you whipped me! Then that sick man who calls himself my father injected _your_ blood into my system! All in less than what? 24 hours? How about you go through that and then come back and ask me what's wrong!"

"I understand why you're mad but that was one of the reasons we need you. Your angel blood will help us win the war."

"No, Jonathon, you don't understand because you are just some demonic experiment who can't feel. You don't understand how much I don't want to be here. You don't understand how _I don't want you to win the war_, a war that you and Valentine started. And that still doesn't justify whipping me! Am I not allowed to mourn my old life, a life _you_ ripped me out of. I should at least be given the chance to…"

Jonathon had reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, making the _beati_ rune pulse and causing Clary to shudder. She quickly brushes off Jonathon's hand and glares at him. "No you don't get to use your stupid little rune to calm me down! You don't get to treat me as if I'm some toy that you can do whatever you like with! You don't get to take me from my home, my friends and _real _family and then expect me to love you, Jonathon. Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want you as my brother, no matter how much I try to love you as a sister should you have to go and ruin your chances! You have to tear down my life and my happiness just to curb your demonic wants."

Clary is on the verge of tears as she digs up all the emotions she has buried deep since Jonathon took her. "So next time you get an urge go talk to Valentine because I'm not going to be here for you as I have tried so hard in the past to do."

Clary won't tolerate her brother's company any longer so she grabs a pancake, gathers her remaining strength and leaves the room. She doesn't know how her brother will react at her outburst but she needs to get out of sight before he can recover from his shock and punish her.

She walks down the hall and shuts herself in the bedroom Jonathon had first tried to have sex with her and locks the door behind her. She sinks to the floor with her back to the door and tears off a piece of pancake to place in her mouth even though she isn't hungry she knows she needs to eat.

Clary doesn't feel like crying anymore, now she lets her anger seethe. Her anger mostly at her brother because now all she wants is to be back in Jace's arms, so she can't have the stubbornness to be mad at the one person she wants the most right now. She wants to kiss Jace, for him to caress her while their lips move and their bodies meld together, for him to take her away from Jonathon and Valentine. When this is all over she is going to take Jace to a secluded island for a week and let herself enjoy him and him enjoy her.

She finishes her pancake and gets up to walk over to the window. Watching the water crest and fall up the beach in white foam and then recede to meet another wave is slightly calming. Her rage boils once again as she hears Jonathon bang on the door.

"Open the door Clarissa!"

She knows her retort will just prompt Jonathon to punish her more but she doesn't care. Any torture now compared to the demon blood will be miniscule. "Go away Sebastian! I never want to see you again!" she shouts. Jonathon doesn't deserve to be called by his given name. So she calls him by the name of the monster she first met.

She hears the lock click and the door swings open. Sebastian storms in and throws Clary over his shoulder.

"Let me go Sebastian!" She screams, kicking and beating on his back.

"No, if you think yourself a prisoner…"

"I am!" Clary blurts.

"…Then I'll treat you like one until you know better," Sebastian finishes. He grips her thighs to keep her from falling off and walks down the hall towards the torture chambers.

Clary continues kicking, screaming and yelling nasty profanities at her brother. She pauses in her epithet once to glare at Valentine who watches idly as his son drags Clary towards the dungeon. In the dark hall Sebastian throws open one of the doors and tosses Clary in.

She lands on her feet in a crouch, her Shadowhunter training taking over and she grabs a knife from the wall of torture weapons. Sebastian had turned around to close and lock the door and Clary plunges the dagger towards her brother's turned back. At the last moment he spins around and grabs Clary's wrist, ripping the knife from her grip he drags her to the far wall with metal cuffs set in the stone. He grabs her other wrist and holds them together while he opens two cuffs and places her wrists in separate ones above her head.

"This just proves my point!" She grits through her teeth.

Sebastian steps back to admire his plaything. Her shirt had pulled up along with her hands so her stomach is bare and her ruined jeans slip down her waist.

"It proves mine too," he says as he takes out his stele. Clary lashes out with her legs, trying to kick Sebastian in the face but he easily side steps the blow and roughly grabs Clary's shoulder, slamming it back against the wall.

Clary lets out a grunt of pain and tries to pull away from the burning stele but Sebastian holds her down and presses the stinging tip onto her collarbone, tracing a mute for the _beati _rune. "No more pleasures for you, just pain until you learn," Sebastian says turning away.

"You're just like him!" Clary shouts.

Sebastian walks over to the wall of daggers and plucks two from their hooks. One a plain iron dagger with a leather wrapped hilt, the second a glowing silver dagger with a hilt inlaid with emeralds. He puts one in his belt as he examines the iron one. "Like who, little sister?"

Clary's voice drips with hatred as she says, "Valentine! For someone who hates the man you act _exactly_ like him."

Sebastian's black eyes blaze with anger as he walks over to Clary and runs a hand along Clary's neck. He watches his hand trace her pale skin. "That is not my fault little sister. If our mother had stayed and helped Valentine I might not be like this. Or if she had taken me with her when she ran… you and I would have grown up together," he says wistfully.

"She thought you were dead Sebastian! You can't blame her for believing her son had died! Blame Valentine for that. That's not an excuse either; you can still choose who you are going to be." Clary strains away from Sebastian's touch, now with the _beati _runemuted she can feel the revulsion that should rightfully accompany Sebastian's touch.

"That, dear sister, is sadly not true. Valentine put Lilith's blood in me remember? My nature cannot be changed, this is who I am and I have no choice but to act the part. I am only gentle with a few things, you being one of them; you are the only person who has access to my better side. You are the angel to balance my demon; you just refuse to see that. "

Sebastian places the iron dagger on her chest and drags it from her collarbone to the middle of her chest. Clary bites the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming as her still gold blood spills down her chest.

"I tried to be nice Clarissa. I really did but you are being too stubborn to see that you belong to me," Sebastian says moving the dagger to her other collarbone and waiting.

"I belong with Jace," she spits.

Sebastian leans into Clary, placing his mouth next to her ear and kissing her cheek before whispering, "Fortunately you are wrong. You're place is with me, by my side."

He drags the knife down in the opposite direction. As Clary tries to choke back her scream Sebastian kisses her.

After Sebastian pulls back Clary wipes her mouth on her sleeve and says, "I'll never be yours."

Sebastian wipes her gold blood off the dagger and wipes it on his pants, staining the black with gold. He places the dagger in his belt and pulls the glowing silver knife. Clary can't quite remembers what it is.

"You already are mine Clarissa. I guess you just need a reminder," Sebastian says, grabbing the shoulder devoid of his rune he readies the dagger over it. Just before he cuts into her skin she remembers what it is. Demon metal. The wound given by demon metal cannot be healed by even a powerful iratze. The source of Sebastian's whip scars.

Too late Clary screams, "No!" but Sebastian has already plunged the knife into her flesh and sketched three letters. _JCM._ Clary lets out a little whimper as she stares down at the bleeding golden letters. She'll have those forever now, just like Sebastian's scars.

Rage flares in her gored chest. "You branded me!" She yells.

"Yes, so that you will always know your place," Sebastian says collecting another kiss from Clary.

She pulls away. "You _BRANDED_ me! I'm not your property Sebastian!"

Sebastian looks down at her new brand. "You have a new mark that says otherwise." He drags a finger through Clary's pulsing demon metal mark, she holds back a grunt of pain as Sebastian presses in the wound, causing more of her gold blood to spill.

"Stop! Please! It hurts." Clary pleads, the wound in her collarbone hurts almost as much as having Sebastian's demon blood injected into her and it feels like her collarbone has been set on fire.

"Not until you accept your place. _Completely,_" Sebastian says. Clary knows what he means when he says 'completely,' it means she has to accept that they need to strengthen their bloodline. Her insides twist in disgust.

"Never," she says through the pain.

Sebastian pulls back slightly to place his hands on her bared hips. "You'll break eventually. Even if you haven't after the war do you think I'll let you go? No, you'll still be here, locked in this room, you'll never see angel boy again and every day you are still refusing your place is one more minute that I will drag Jace's death out. So go ahead, make your angel boy suffer a cruel long death, all the more fun for me. The more days I get to see you chained to this wall, at my disposal, the longer I get to torture your precious Jace."

She was beginning to wonder where the real Sebastian had gone. He had been so dormant and calm these past few days, but here he was in all his dark glory.

Clary kicks out and nails Sebastian in the face. He stumbles away, a hand to his jaw and it comes away covered in his black blood.

"Still the spitfire I see. Good I still want you fighting when I break you," he says drawing the demon metal dagger back with his arm.

Clary's eyes widen in disbelief. "You wouldn't," she says darkly.

"Sweet sister, I would." He lets the knife fly.

Clary closes her eyes and turns her head away as the knife whistles toward her. She hears the knife hit the stone before she feels the pain. Sebastian only grazed her arm, but it still hurt like the fires of hell. She feels her gold blood pour down her arm onto her shoulder.

Clary opens her eyes to assess her new wound. Another scar that will never fully heal. Sebastian had cut the middle of her forearm and her gold blood flows down her arm onto her shoulder, soaking her shirt. She looks down and sees her chest is a cross work of golden bloody lines. The gold liquid drips down in thin streams to her stomach and now stains the front of her already blood stained jeans.

Sebastian moves to take the knife back but Valentine calls from somewhere in the castle, "Jonathon, come here!"

Sebastian's shoulders slump in disappointment and he turns to leave. Before he closes the door he turns his head to look back at his chained angel, "Two more days little sister. Then it's just you and me." With a dark smile he's gone, locking the door behind him and leaving Clary to bleed.


	7. The Counting of Sins

After Sebastian left and the adrenaline rush along with him, Clary is consumed once more by an energy sucking presence. Two rounds of torture within the same hour. One given by her father the other by her brother.

Her bleeding body sags against the stonewall. She can't even sit down because the metal cuffs have her supported in a standing position and they aren't adjustable. Clary slumps against the wall as her collarbone and arm scream in pain. The cuts from her chest cry out in protest with every breath she takes. Her still sore back, her all over aching body and lack of energy add to the painful chorus.

How did her life come to this? Being chained in some castle dungeon and tortured repeatedly by her family. Valentine was sure to come back as he said he would but Clary has a few hours because her still bleeding demon metal wounds leak gold blood.

Sebastian hadn't even put an iratze on her let alone made an effort to stop her bleeding before he left. She doesn't doubt that the next time Sebastian comes she'll be passed out from blood loss.

What did she do to deserve this? Did she not return her library books? Not save a cat from a tree? Write a get well card for Simon? What could she have possibly done that could warrant this type of treatment?

No sin that she could think of can measure up to the punishments being wrought upon her. No sin can permit her brother whipping her. No sin can account for the insurmountable pain suffered when demon blood had been introduced to her veins. No sin can warrant the application of a brand claiming her as her brother's property.

Dread fills her stomach as she thinks back to Lake Lyn. What if the angels are punishing her because Valentine's death did not stay permanent? That she did not guarantee his death. That she allowed the terrible man to come back and once again wreak havoc on the world.

What if they're punishing her for allowing Lilth to bring back her brother? Surely she could have stopped her if she had just tried. She had allowed Jace to become enslaved by Lilth and kidnap Clary. She had let that she demon force Simon to drink Sebastian's blood. She had put both Simon and Jace in danger when she had stayed on that roof. Simon threw himself in front of the demoness's whip to protect her.

Or that just by seeing Jace, Alec and Isabelle that first time in Pandemonium she had brought with her the chaos of her family. She had put them all in danger just by knowing them. Allowing Valentine to become involved in their lives, allowing Jace and herself to believe they were siblings. Then having Sebastian come after her like this.

He had taken Jace and enslaved him. He had kidnapped him and Clary for his own selfish wants.

Clary starts to quietly sob as she races through the past few months finding things that happened because of her, her actions or her family. She had placed them all in danger; it was her fault, all her fault.

Clary remembers the words Jace had spoken one night and says them now into the dimness of the torture chamber. "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."

She repeats these words over and over in her head, slowly realizing that maybe she did deserve this fate, this punishment for bringing hell on earth to those she cared for. She lets her hot tears mingle with the gold blood on her chest. Her red hair hanging down around her face now stained gold with her blood. Sebastian was right, she was like him. She caused trouble everywhere she went, death and pain followed her. For hours Clary hangs there, supported only by her chains.

And only hours later does she hear another chamber door open. She draws a breath and struggles to lift her head. It sounded like the one to her left was opened. She hears footfalls and silence. Then her father's voice, "I'm disappointed Jonathon. I'm gone for less than half a year and you forget all the lessons I so painstakingly taught you."

"Maybe you weren't as good a teacher as you thought Father," she hears Jonathon say coolly.

She can imagine her father's face tightening in rage then pushing it down so his face can assume his usual bland composure. Silence is all she hears for a few minutes, then the scrape of a whip being dragged along the stone floor.

The crack of metal breaking the sound barrier as it sails to meet flesh. She hears Sebastian grunt in pain as his father whips him with the demon metal.

Another sin to add to her plate: she smiles as she hears the whip crack. It drops from her face almost as quickly as it appeared. She took little joy in someone being whipped but she feels her brother deserves it for his earlier actions. She hears the whip crack again and again. She counts ten, twenty, twenty-five, thirty lashes before the blood soaked whip hits the ground with a grotesque _smack_.

Pity for her brother battles the rage she feels for him. Thirty was too many. Sebastian, no matter how badly he had treated her a few hours previous, did not deserve thirty lashes from that horrid metal.

She hears Sebastian's groan as he says, "What? Now do you expect me to treat Clarissa with more kindness?"

Valentine scoffs. "I do not care how you use your sister so long as she is still alive enough so I can withdraw what I need from her. However, I expect you to treat me with more respect, not come barging in during the middle of an experiment and man handle me." Silence. "We have another dinner tonight and I need Clarissa to look presentable and somewhat energetic. Get to it, boy." She hears a pair of footsteps leave the chamber and fade into the far corridor.

Great, another dinner to look forward to and more quality time with her brother. She hears Sebastian groan as he leaves the chamber. He's probably going to clean up his back.

Clary didn't know how much time had passed, it felt like forever but surely it wasn't near dinnertime. The footsteps sound again and approach her door and she cringes into the wall. No it can't be time. She doesn't want to face Sebastian, too late does the door fall open revealing a bare chested Sebastian.

"Sweet sister," he coos, "Dinner time."

He must be used to being whipped because besides the black flecks dotting his front chest Clary can't tell Sebastian is in any pain. Still half-conscious Clary yelps in pain as Sebastian unlocks the cuffs holding her wrists. She falls to the ground in a bloody heap, inwardly screaming as her barely healed cuts reopen and her body moans in pain, still throbbing from exposure to demon blood.

Sebastian gathers her into his arms and carries her out of the chamber. She groans as his hands, cold hands, touch her back. She keeps her eyes shut as Sebastian takes her to his room. She is still incredibly weak and doubts she will be able to stand. Her fingers brush her right forearm and she winces as she remembers that is where Sebastian had thrown the demon knife. That and her collarbone brand are still extremely sensitive and throb in pain.

Sebastian reaches his room and shoves open his newly repaired door. He must have fixed it after he tortured her. He carries her broken, mangled form into the bathroom.

"Now you don't have a choice little sister. Now I have to give you a shower."

Clary cracks her eyes open enough to glare at Sebastian but is still too weak to say anything. She is dreading this; she is going to have her dignity stripped away with every piece of clothing Sebastian takes. Clary wishes she could just pass out until Sebastian finishes, no such luck as Sebastian takes the first of her dignity.

He removes her bloodstained shirt and throws it in the corner. "First lets clean you up enough so I have a clean patch of skin to Mark you."

Sebastian grabs a towel and wets it with one hand then carries Clary back out to his bedroom and sets her down on the sheets. He then dabs Clary's bloody chest until there is a clean spot of mostly intact skin. Clary does nothing as her brother pulls out his stele and draws an iratze on her chest and another on her neck.

The relief of pain makes Clary sigh but quickly turns to a wince as Sebastian runs the towel over the brand. The iratzes have restored enough of Clary's energy for her to say weakly, "You of all people, Sebastian, should be gentle with demon metal wounds."

"Just because I have them, little sister, doesn't mean I sympathize with you. I'm used to the pain," Sebastian says as he wipes away her blood.

The cuts on her chest have healed completely, but her brand and arm still cry in pain and her body still aches. Sebastian hauls Clary up to her protest and helps her off the bed. As she tries to stand her knees buckle but Sebastian catches her, causing Clary to groan in pain. He turns her around so her back faces him and sketches a stamina rune.

Clary is filled with a rush of energy and she stands but Sebastian keeps his hold on her waist as if she might run away. "I can take a shower on my own now Sebastian," Clary says trying to remove her brother's grip.

"I'm sure, but I'll have to watch just in case that stamina rune runs out. That and you're still not fully healed," he says with a grin and propels his sister forward into the bathroom.

Clary scowls at her brother as he turns on the hot shower. Before she can do anything he bends down and pulls off her jeans and boots. "Sebastian!" Clary says as he slowly stands back up while running his hands along her outer thigh. When he returns to his full height he unclips Clary's bra but she grabs his wrists before he can remove it.

"I can do it myself. Now back off!" Clary says as she shoves her brother's hands away. Sebastian takes one-step back, no more, and keeps his eyes locked on his sister as she turns around so she doesn't have to see the look on his face as she removes her bra. She can feel his eyes burn holes into her back as she quickly discards her panties and steps into the steamy shower.

She turns it up to full heat so the glass fogs and her body becomes mostly obscure to Sebastian. Feeling a little less aware of Sebastian's burning eyes she runs her hands through her red matted hair. She grabs the shampoo and lathers her scalp, making sure to wash out all traces of her golden blood then putting in conditioner she ties it up so she can work on her aching body.

Looking down she can see multiple blue-black bruises fading to a green brown and then disappearing altogether. She touches her collarbone and hisses in pain as her fingers brush over the three new letters there.

_JCM._ She still can't believe her brother branded her. What did he hope to accomplish? He said that it was a reminder of her place, her place by his side. She would gladly be placeless if it meant not having to be by her brother's side in more ways than one but she wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

Taking some coconut scented body wash she carefully scrubs away all the dirt and grime that had collected on her in the dungeon. She lets her hair down and meticulously begins to separate the knots of red curls. Then she rinses out the conditioner and turns off the shower.

She sticks her arm out of the door and says, "Can you get me a towel?"

She can hear the smile playing on his lips as he says, "I can… but I won't."

"I'm not stepping out of this shower until you do," Clary says but is quickly undermined when Sebastian grabs her outstretched arm and pulls her naked body from the shower. Clary lets out a yelp as Sebastian pulls her into him. She crosses her arms across her chest as Sebastian looks up and down her naked body. She can feel her cheeks turning pink and her ears heating up as Sebastian's black eyes take in every detail of her.

Sebastian's face is plastered with a dirty grin. "I see the carpet matches the drapes," he says as he throws a towel at Clary who quickly catches it and wraps it around her body.

Clary stands bewildered for a moment, unsure what what Sebastian meant then she realizes he meant… down there. Clary grabs another towel and flings it at him while yelling, "Pervert!"

Sebastian easily catches the towel and flings it over his shoulder. He shrugs and starts to unbutton his jeans.

Clary takes a step back. "What are you doing?"

"Well if you haven't noticed you're not the only one who gets whipped and you're not the only one who bleeds. Therefore, I need to shower. You're welcome to stay and watch, maybe even join me," he says stripping his jeans off his muscular legs.

Clary is tempted to stay just out of pure curiosity because she's never seen a naked man before but she shakes her head and quickly steps out of the bathroom and shuts the door just as Sebastian slides his boxers off.

Clary shudders and walks over to the dresser, rummaging around in the drawers. Judging on her past wardrobe changes she thinks Sebastian has a drawer of her underthings. She looks around the room and realizes for the first time since she was taken that the bedroom is a master suite, made for two people. The bed is a king and peeking in the closet she sees one side lined with women's clothing, all for her.

Greens and yellows that suit her skin tone, blues and purples that will make her fiery hair blaze and accent her eyes. Finally Clary pulls open a drawer filled with lace, silk and straps. The panties and bras all are either black, red, dark blue, or a deep purple. If you can even call them panties. Most of them have a single piece of cloth on the front with a cord going back. Thong. She digs around, thong, thong, thong. She scowls as she thinks that Sebastian wants her to wear these.

"Didn't he get me a single piece of decent clothing?" she mutters to herself.

She comes across the bras and all are, lace, silk and very thin. She pulls out a black slip that would barely cover from her torso to her butt. She holds it between her thumb and fore finger with a look of disgust on her face. She throws it back in the drawer and continues digging until she comes across a pair of cotton underwear that are still what a skank would wear but cover more of her than the rest of her choices.

She pulls out a black bra with red lace roses sewn into it. She sighs it will have to do. She wiggles into her underwear and clips her bra on, dropping her towel she walks over to the closet and pushes open the door.

The side lined with Sebastian's clothes range from designer tuxedos to tank tops and jeans to T- shirts and sweat pants. Clary's never seen Sebastian in sweat pants. Looking on the other side Clary runs her hand over the rows of dresses and cleavage friendly shirts. Finally she finds the jeans, all designer, and zips herself into a pair of dark blue jeans then laces a leather belt through the belt loops, making one more layer between herself and Sebastian.

Still hunting for a shirt that won't make her look like she just walked out of a bar, she doesn't hear Sebastian come in and walk over to his side of the closet.

"Admiring your new wardrobe little sister?"

Clary jumps and turns around to see Sebastian in nothing but his towel, still dripping wet. His lop-sided grin and wet white blond hair hanging in his face remind her of an Irish wolfhound she once met. Gorgeous and playful, except the wolfhound had a sweet disposition whereas Sebastian has the devil running amuck inside him.

"I wouldn't call it a wardrobe. There's barely anything here," she says pulling out a red halter-top and showing it to Sebastian.

He shrugs, "May I not desire for my sister to look beautiful?"

"You may not _desire_ for your sister at all," Clary says, finally finding a black shirt that would hug her waist and dipped low in the front but it was decent enough.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Sebastian drop his towel. She shrieks and spins around, the black shirt clutched to her chest. "Put some clothes on Sebastian!"

"That's what I'm doing," he says as he pulls on his boxers.

Clary hastily pulls on her shirt and scurries back into the room. Sebastian exits soon after but Clary is staring across the room at the window looking out at the beach.

"Now what?" she says not looking at Sebastian.

His arms snake around her waist and pull her lower body flush with his. Clary struggles against him but stops after she remembers her time chained to the dungeon wall not too long ago. She didn't want to go back there so she decides not to incite Sebastian's anger.

Sebastian kisses her neck, slowly, as if reveling in his sister's touch. "Well, we still have an hour before dinner… and I brought you up early so I could do this."

He nips at the cusp of her ear; a shudder runs through her spine.

"And this…" he whispers, burying his face in her neck and kissing her from her jaw to shoulder. Clary's nervousness shoots through the roof but she curbs it because she does not want to be thrown back in the dungeon to be tortured repeatedly.

"And this…" He spins her around and pulls her into a deep kiss. His hands rest on her hips then travel down her thighs. Clary starts to tremble. A voice in her head tries to reason that Sebastian was going to do this eventually and that this side of Sebastian was much preferred to his raging demon that chained her to that wall.

That if she lets him do this, maybe he'll leave her alone. Maybe after he does this the Angel's will forgive her of her sins and she will finally find peace in her life. Just maybe… She returns his kiss whole-heartedly, curious as to how he will respond.

As Sebastian feels the returning pressure of his sister's lips he picks her up, still kissing her, and walks over to lay her on the bed. Clary's legs wrap around his waist as he lays himself over her, propping himself on his elbows so not to crush her.

Sebastian runs his hands along her side, lightly scratching his nails and evoking a quiet moan from Clary who digs her nails into his shoulders. Clary knows she shouldn't be letting her brother do this, she knows it's wrong but she allows Sebastian to have his moment. She thinks back to what she knows of his childhood and assumes he has never had much. That he has only wanted a few things in life.

She thinks it better for Sebastian to have her instead of burning down the world. She thinks maybe if she gives herself to him he won't need to decimate the Shadowhunters. So she lays on the bed with her eyes closed and allows her brother to have his fun.

They keep their clothes on but Sebastian snakes his hand into her pants and starts to toy with her. He rubs her spot, evoking more moans that Sebastian muffles with kisses and sometimes he allows them to escape as he gently kisses her chest.

She knows why he is holding back, keeping himself from tearing off their clothes and ravishing her until she screams. He wants to have time, to take his sweet time pulling every moan and sigh and scream of pleasure he can from her. Right now they don't have the time because they need to look presentable for dinner or their father would be furious and punish them both once again.

Clary pushes her hands up under her brother's shirt and runs gentle fingers along his back, careful not to hit his whip scars. Sebastian in turn leans down to kiss the brand he left on her and she winces from the still too fresh pain.

"Now we are the same in more ways than one, little sister," Sebastian whispers onto her collarbone. His hot breath feels good on the pulsing wound for some reason. Clary has army of responses to the words that have just fallen from her brother's lips but she holds her tongue, knowing any one of her comebacks would only get her punished.

For the next hour she lets Sebastian do as he pleases, which seemed to put him in an extremely lively mood that his sister had allowed him to do with her what he wanted and let it go unprotested. So as the hour struck Sebastian pulled Clary up from the bed, both panting, with a smile on his face. Clary had to admit that all of the things Sebastian had done to her made her feel phenomenal and gave her the tolerance to deal with the oncoming dinner. She maybe even felt happy… No the word to describe it would be satisfied.

Neither saying a word they pull on their boots, Sebastian links his arm with his sister's and walks them both to the dining hall . Clary glances back at the bedroom, the sheets on the bed tossed as though they had been rolled around in, which they had, as she thinks, One more sin.


	8. Sebastian's Decision

_**Okay guys. I'm so sorry for the delay, total writer's block and I had a Book day with my friend. I just finished and I hope you guys like it. I could really use suggestions too. Post them in the reviews. :)**_

At dinner Clary felt empty, devoid of emotion. The euphoria Sebastian had given her had worn off by the third course. She hated multiple course meals; she always thought they were too extravagant and unnecessary. Sebastian is seated to her left and her father to her right.

Valentine paid her no attention as he turned to a demon Shadowhunter and began talking of the war. Sebastian was more attentive to her tonight because last time he hadn't been paid her attention, it had cost him. He would spare her glances as she picked at her meal but would never engage in conversation with her, too wrapped up in his own thoughts or planning the demise of the Clave.

He would occasionally run a hand along her thigh and she would brush it away. She barely touched any of the food placed in front of her. Sitting in the silence of her own mind she is consumed by shock as she realizes that sometime this morning she had woken up from being whipped, had demon blood forced into her body, and been chained in the dungeon. The impact of these events crashes into her subconscious and leaves a scar so deep she won't ever be able to heal it.

These past few days have changed her drastically and Clary doesn't like it. What would Jace think of her when she got back? _If _she got back. Would he cringe at Sebastian's brand and turn her away? Would he not love her anymore? Would he even recognize her?

She realizes that Sebastian had just spoken to her for the first time tonight. Wrapped in her own thoughts she hadn't heard him.

"What?" she says turning to face her brother.

Sebastian leans in close and lowers his voice to keep the conversation private, just in case it takes an inappropriate turn, "I said you've barely touched your food. Is our chef not good enough for you?"

Clary keeps her eyes on her food and quietly responds, "No, I'm just not very hungry."

"Just one more hour, little sister, then we go back to our room," he whispers in her ear.

Clary notices how he said _our _room not _his_ room, she is unsure if that's a bad thing or not. She still can't believe that with all the things that had happened today she was sitting down having a civilized dinner with her family, so called.

The little food she has eaten sits uncomfortably in her stomach. It rolls around making her insides twist, and one violent lurch, she places her hand on her stomach. She tries to hide it but the twisting increases and she holds back a groan. She needs to leave.

Last time she left though she was whipped. So she thinks out her next words to her father, or maybe her brother, carefully. As she thinks, Sebastian glances over at her and sees her face painted with an unusually pale complexion. He knits his brow and leans over to ask, "Are you okay? You look a little green."

She shakes her head. "I need to leave," she says quietly.

Sebastian leans over her and taps Valentine. He whispers something in his ear. Valentine's face doesn't change as he says, "I know Jonathon. This was expected, take your sister and have her lie down."

What did he mean by 'was expected?' What did he do? Clary will sort that out later, right now she needs to make it to the nearest bathroom because she feels like throwing up.

Sebastian stood casually and took Clary's arm, looking as though he was escorting her but really she leaned most of her weight into him. The second she stood up she became light headed and the room spun.

Sebastian walked her out into the hall and dropped all pretense of formality for the demon Shadowhunters. He scooped her up and raced to their room and burst into the bathroom. He gently sets her on the bathroom floor and she leans over the toilet, dripping sweat with cold shudders running through her back.

Between gasps she asks, "What did Valentine mean? This was expected."

Her stomach twists and turns, boils and grumbles but won't offer any relief.

Sebastian sits on the floor next to her and focuses his eyes on the ceiling, his mind elsewhere. "He meant that it's a side effect of the demon blood. That you won't be able to stomach food."

Her stomach jerks and she lets out a pained moan. "For how long?"

"Just a day. Tomorrow you should be fine."

"When did you say he was leaving?" Clary says as she leans back and lies down on the floor, closing her eyes and placing a hand on her stomach and the other pinches her nose.

"Tomorrow morning," Sebastian's voice says fading into the distance. Clary lets herself get wrapped up in sleep on the bathroom floor, the sweet pull lulling her stomachache and then she's gone.

Sebastian watches as his sister's eyes close and her head drops to the side along with her arm. Sebastian is glad that Lilith is coming for their father tomorrow morning. Glad he'll be out of their lives for good. He hates to see his sister in such distress because of Valentine. The only person allowed to lay a hand on her is him, and only him.

Pulling the sleeping Clary into his lap he strokes her wild hair, watching her chest rise and fall evenly. The pale pallor of her face slowly returns to its normal shade. Her fiery curls fall around her delicate face.

He kisses her forehead and gathers her tired body into his arms. He stands up and walks over to the master bed. He pulls back the covers with one hand and places Clary under the sheets. He slides in next to her and she reflexively curls into him. Sebastian wraps his arm around her and her head rests on his chest. She unconsciously curls her legs around his, looking for warmth.

Sebastian smiles to himself as his sister naturally clings to him. This is how it should be, how it would be every night, now that he had brought her here.

Earlier when she had yelled at him, questioned him and ridiculed him, his inner demon had come bursting out. He has tried to hold it back, for Clary, and usually he does but when she had poured out her inner most thoughts about him and stormed out he had lost control.

He had stormed over to the room his sister had locked herself in and broken the doorknob when she didn't let him in. He had almost stopped and stared at his sister standing in front of the window, outlined in the rising sun with the yellows and oranges making her hair blaze like an actual flame. His demon had discarded these thoughts immediately and grabbed his sister, flinging her over his shoulder.

His anger seethed as Clary had kicked and screamed and swore at him as he brought her down to the torture chambers. Cuffing her to the wall and seeing her struggle against her bonds had made his inner demon writhe in glee.

She refused to take her place, refused to accept her destiny. Sebastian had decided she needed to be reminded and any other who saw her would know she was his. He had found a demon metal dagger, and knowing she would bear the scar forever, he had carved his initials into her collarbone.

He glances over at the letters peeking out of her black shirt. They have a faint silver hue to them. Silver to blend with her pale skin, silver to compliment her eyes, silver to draw the attention of a man and then scare him witless as he sees the letters carved into her skin.

He contemplates letting Jace see them before he kills him. Maybe even drag him here to torture him with the sight of Clary, broken and under his control. Though that wasn't quite true, she still had the fire in her and he didn't want to douse it. Just contain it, control it. Then release it in bed, Angel what a wonder she would be. He remembers the eight parallel lines cut into his back at the club in Prague.

A shiver runs down his back as he pictures what it would be like to have his little sister actually gouge those cuts into his back herself. He also wants to see how she would do with planning the war. She certainly has the mind for it and the stamina. If he could only get her to see that she was his, that she belonged with him. They would practically win the war the second she turned.

He runs a finger over his mark and Clary winces but doesn't wake. To Sebastian's amazement her hand shoots out and grips his wrist, keeping him from her brand. Her body stiffens as the pain shoots, fleetingly, through her. Clary's Shadowhunter abilities have gotten better than he expected. What with all the free time she's had not being able to touch angel boy. He'll have to train with her sometime to see the full extent of them.

Carefully removing her fingers from his wrist, he lets her hand fall on his chest and she curves her fingers into his shirt. The heat coming off his little sister is intense, warming his side. He surprises himself continually as he doesn't rip off her clothes here and now. He wants to take her on every available surface in this house.

No, he doesn't want to disturb the first relatively peaceful sleep she's had since she came here. The first time Sebastian had knocked her out and brought her to the room down the hall, she had laid tossing and turning, calling out for her angel boy or that Daylighter. The second night she had fallen asleep crying and had woken not two hours later. Sebastian hadn't been here while Clary slept after he had whipped her but when he returned he had seen the grimace on her face.

Sebastian had laid down for a few minutes still completely awake, letting his black blood flow down his back. He was surprised when she had gotten up and started bandaging him. He'd taken the opportunity to 'thank' her but had only lasted a few minutes until he'd left and so had she. Then he left her hanging in the dungeon to fade in and out of consciousness, not exactly sleep.

This is the first time she slept peacefully, in a real bed, in his arms, and not from blood loss or demon injection, mostly. She won't have to deal with Valentine and his ridiculous injections but she won't be able to avoid having her blood taken. Her angel blood will help boost the demon Shadowhunters. He would have to force her until she turned and willingly gave her blood. It won't be a problem seeing as Shadowhunters replace blood three times faster than humans.

Lilith was coming with the sunrise tomorrow to return Valentine to hell, to burn for the rest of eternity. Sebastian doesn't think Clary wants another encounter with the mother of all demons but he was going to drag her there any way. Whether she wanted to or not.

Sebastian listens to Clary's light breathing as he stares into the darkness. His grip tightens on her as he heard Valentine some time later, walking down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as the footsteps recede and he hears the lock engage on his father's door, he finally relaxes.

Still in his clothes from dinner, Sebastian decides to change out of them into something more comfortable. Carefully he pries Clary's fingers from his shirt and disentangles his legs, though it kills him to leave the rare position he finds his sister in, but gets up all the same. His sister lets out a moan of protest, as she no longer has a warm body to cling to.

Ripping his shirt over his head, Sebastian discards it in the corner of his closet and unbuckles his jeans. Sliding them off, he discards them along with his shirt and pulls on a pair of black sweatpants. He leaves his chest bear and walks back to the bed, watching the red head roll over so her face is smothered in the pillow.

Sebastian put a long mute on the _beati _rune, intending on keeping his little sister down in the dungeon. Now though with her lying peacefully in his bed he takes his stele and removes the mute, watching the black lines recede until the original rune lies on her collarbone.

Twisting and turning, Clary has managed to twist her jeans around her legs, making it look uncomfortable. Sebastian takes it upon himself to pull back the covers and slowly remove her jeans. He sees the black lace panties and a feeling in his abdomen tightens at the sight of his sister's ass. Clary stirs and asks groggily, not quite awake enough to realize Sebastian removed her pants, "Sebastian? What are you…?"

"Shh," he kisses her to silence her question, "It's okay. Go back to sleep."

Clary snuggles back into the sheets and resumes her soft pattern of breathing. Sebastian decides to leave her shirt but keep her pants off so he can marvel at her beauty. Sebastian slides back into bed and settles himself next to Clary's warm, sleeping body. He slips his arm under his sister and pulls her closer.

She gasps in her sleep as his skin touches hers, sending waves of pleasure through her tired body. She arches her back momentarily then lets out a sigh and sinks back onto Sebastian, a lazy smile spreading across her face as she nestles into his side.

Even devoid of his pleasure rune, the mere act of Clarissa pushing herself closer to him sends waves of his own pleasure coursing through him. His pants tighten as his pleasure shows and he groans. It's ridiculous the affect his sister has on him. She can melt his entire being and if she wanted to control him. He would be putty in her hands if only she knew how to use herself as a weapon.

He can't decide if he wants her to know how to. If she did she would be even better in bed, seductive, graceful, sexy but she would also have an even more powerful influence over him. He already lets her decisions sway his, already lets her have more freedom than he would ever give someone with himself, reveals too much about himself around her because he feels comfortable.

Clary pushes herself into him as he continually keeps his skin in contact with hers. She rewraps her legs around his and Sebastian moves his hand down her back to rest on her hip, his fingertips skimming her panties.

Clary gasps as he slips his hand up her shirt and presses his entire arm up against her back. Sebastian loves the pleasure rune he put on his sister, the more skin on skin contact the greater the pleasure. He wonders if he should have Clary put one on him but he doubts that she will do it. Once he puts a stele in her hands she'll probably draw a portal rune and disappear, forever. As much as Sebastian would hate to admit it, that would break his heart, seeing his sister leave.

His life is lonely and the only person who has some understanding of him is Clarissa. She understands him somehow, puts her being into trying to help him. She genuinely cares for him even if she won't show it. She cares and she loves him, he just has to show her that she does.

He kisses Clary one last time before he settles himself down and closes his eyes to the dark bedroom. He lets his thoughts drift from Clary's body touching his all along his side to Lilith's arrival tomorrow to the oncoming war to whether or not he should drag angel boy here and torture him just for kicks. Just to see the broken look on his face as Clary would rush in to try and save him, of Sebastian using the _beati_ rune against her, of then dragging her away as Jace screams and pulls against his bonds.

He can imagine every gory detail. He comes to a conclusion just before he drops off: he's going to drag that angel boy here and he's going to torture him. End of story, or at least Jace's.


	9. From Earth to Hell the Sinner Fell

_**Happy New Year everyone! I finished this chapter last night with two minutes to Midnight but didn't post because, you know, editing stuff. Oh well, here it is enjoy!**_

Clary wakes to a cold bed but hot breath blowing in her face. She opens her eyes to find Sebastian's black ones staring at her. Clary groans and shoves her face into the pillow.

"Oh no, little sister. You have to get up. I have a special surprise for you," Sebastian says.

"It's too early for surprises," Clary says, muffling her voice in the pillow.

Sebastian shrugs and rips off the covers. Clary draws her legs close to her body, warming herself against the cold air. Her legs are too cold.

Clary's eyes fly open and she bolts upright. She stares down at her bare legs. "Where are my pants, Sebastian?" she says as calmly as she can, still treading water at Sebastian's last reaction.

"On the floor," he says smiling.

"Why?"

Sebastian hauls Clary out of bed to her protest and sets her on the floor, her green eyes glaring at him. "I felt like looking at your ass," he says simply, throwing a pair of jeans at her.

Clary blushes for a moment but it disappears, confused as to why it appeared. She pulls on her jeans while Sebastian watches. He then grabs her arm and tows her out of the bedroom. They walk at a brisk pace down the hall and around some corners, traveling into an unfamiliar part of the castle.

"What surprise could warrant me rising before dawn?" Clary asked slightly annoyed. She had been having a pleasant sleep, filled with pleasure and happiness and Jace. However, now her thoughts of him are guilt laced, unsure if she had wrought hell on him.

"You have to wait and see," Sebastian says enthusiastically. They approach a set of pure black doors. Engraved in red is a pentagram, turned on its head. It's very ominous, rising far above Clary and sitting in a rounded doorway inlaid with gleaming green gemstones.

He pushes open the doors to reveal a woman, with her back to them, dressed in a plain gray shirt and skirt, her long jet black hair fell to her mid back. She stands in front of something but her body blocks the view. She stands in the middle of an open, high ceilinged room with a wall of windows looking at the dark beach on one side. It looks a little like a ballroom but smaller. A nagging thought hits Clary, a thought that the women looks familiar and it brings a sick feeling to her stomach. Confused Clary lets her brother drag her forward towards the women.

"Jonathon," she hears the woman say pleasantly. Clary stops dead in her tracks as the woman's voice echoes around the room. The voice that had yelled on the rooftops of Brooklyn as she had brought down the silver whip to dig into her flesh. The voice that had growled at Simon to feed Sebastian his blood. The voice that had praised Sebastian as her own son and given her blood to raise an army of demon Shadowhunters.

Clary spins on her heel and bolts for the door. Sebastian reaches his arm out to catch her but she easily dodges it and keeps running for the door. She makes it a ways down the hall they had come down. Hope begins to build on her escape but Sebastian's arm wraps around her waist and drags her back to the room.

She lets out a scream and rams her foot into Sebastian's knee. He goes down on one knee but his grip only tightens on her waist. She struggles desperately as he rises and carries her back towards the room.

He's going to make her drink from that cup. He's going to turn her into one of his slaves. He's going to turn her into a demon!

"No," she screams as she lashes out at Sebastian who quickly dodges the blow. "Don't make me!"

"Make you do what Clarissa?" Sebastian asks.

"You know what," she spits as he drags her into the room where Lilith stood. He drags a chair from the corner and pulls a length of rope, as if he anticipated her resistance, and ties her hands behind her and to her chair.

Sebastian stands behind her chair and places his hands on her shoulders, bringing his face down next to hers. Clary struggles against her bonds but Sebastian runs a finger over her collarbone, throwing pleasure through her and completely stopping her struggles.

"Be calm Clary. Just watch. I promise you'll enjoy this."

She tries not to gasp as her brother continually keeps his finger on her skin. Just watches as Lilith steps aside from the object she had placed in front of herself. Clary gapes in amazement, at her father tied to a chair and gagged.

There's a bloody gash running down his forehead, as if he was hit on the head, hard. His eyes are wild and they fly from his son to Lilith to his daughter, in a mock position to his own. His expression is one of cold fury, directed directly at Sebastian.

"What did you," Clary swallows, "Do to him?"

"I told you yesterday little sister, he's going back to hell," he whispers in her ear.

At the word 'hell' Valentine violently shakes his chair, yelling through his gag. Sebastian laughs and turns to Lilith who stands to the side with a proud smile on her face, gazing at Sebastian and Clary.

Clary tries to glare at her but Sebastian presses his whole hand onto her shoulder and practically immobilizes her with the rune he forces to pulse. The first sunlight she sees cracks over the water and blazes through the windows. "Lilith would you be so kind as to demonstrate to my dear sister why you are here," Sebastian says running his hand along her chest and back to her shoulder.

"Certainly," Lilith says as she walks over to Valentine, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She stands behind him and raises a hand, it lights with blue flames, licking up her fingertips. She lowers her hand slowly towards the struggling Valentine who lashes around but Lilith's claws extend on her other hand and she digs them into Valentine's shoulder.

He screams in pain through his gag but stops as he sees the blue flames get closer to his face. She places the flames on his neck and they do not burn his skin but lick up his neck and trail along his collarbone. His color fades and his image flickers slightly as Lilith draws away.

Valentine gasps as Lilith withdraws her hand, doubling over in his chair. Lilith smirks and rounds the chair to crouch in front of Valentine.

"I never liked you," she says, "I rejoiced when Raziel had struck you down." She runs a claw down his chest and draws blood. Clary cannot take her eyes off the sight of her father actually bleeding.

"When _my_ son asked me to bring you back I thought he had gone crazy. I didn't want to bring you back; I didn't feel like dragging your cursed soul back up from hell. Then Jonathon gave me his reason. He was using you, Valentine, and you were too clouded with your vanity, how amazing you were to have come back from an angel's damnation, to even notice it."

"Truly I'm disappointed in you. Your own son was using you to pin the crimes of himself on," Sebastian puts his entire arm on Clary's, making her gasp and her head ring so Lilith's next words are inaudible but Sebastian can hear and that is exactly why he overrides his sister's system so she can't hear, "So that his dear little sister would have less to fear of him. So that he could make his sister putty in his hands. Also," Sebastian let up on his sister so she could hear but kept a finger on her collarbone to keep her calm, "he used you to get your maps, your schematics, your plans, your journals and your notes on how to take his sister's blood and use it on his Shadowhunters."

Sebastian had removed enough of his hand so that his touch is only an annoyance, so she can focus but not enough to struggle against the rope chaffing her wrists. She turns her head up to look at Sebastian, to glare at him really. "To. Use. My. Blood," she says slowly, trying as hard as she can to put anger into her words.

He shrugs, "It's needed and I'll take it when I need it. Now watch." He grabs her chin and turns it towards Lilith who stands and lowers another hand lit with blue flame to Valentine's face.

She lays her flaming hand on his neck again and his color drains further from his face and hands, his image fades, not entirely there. It fades and fades until there is almost nothing left and he is pale as a sheet of blank paper.

Lilith pauses the instant before Valentine is completely gone and looks to Sebastian. He leans down to Clary, brushing a red curl behind her ear. "Would you like to say goodbye to Father?"

Clary turns her face away from Sebastian and Valentine. Valentine is still her father, but when the angel Raziel had struck him down she hadn't felt the slightest bit of pity. In the past days Valentine has just proven a hundred times over. He's subjected her to so much pain and suffering she wants him gone, out of her life, even if that means being left alone with Sebastian.

"No," she growls into her shoulder.

Sebastian kisses her neck once and stands, keeping his hand on her shoulder.

"I'd love to send you off happily Father, but you've tortured my sister and me too much. So now I say to you, burn in hell, literally," he says with poisonous pleasure in his voice.

Lilith smiles wickedly and plunges her clawed, flaming hand into his chest. Valentine throws his head back in a scream as he fades to nothing. His voice echoes in Clary's head and Lilith stands triumphant next to the empty chair.

Lilith turns to Sebastian, "I always wanted to be the one to send him to hell. Thank you for that opportunity, Jonathon."

"Thank you for the favor, Lilith. Will you be leaving now? I have some unfinished business with my sister," he says smoothly.

"Unfinished business my ass, you ba…" she starts but Sebastian's hand clamps down on her shoulder, simultaneously sending pain and pleasure through her. She grunts at the onslaught.

Lilith looks from him to her then back again, a smile creeping on her face. "I can see that you're busy Jonathon. I'll be leaving." She walks toward him, heels clicking and echoing through the hall. She places a hand on his shoulder, "Goodbye, Jonathon." Then she erupts into a column of blue flame and is gone.

Sebastian releases his hand from Clary's shoulder and she sucks in a gasp of air. She takes in a few gulps, trying to push away Sebastian's euphoria. She realizes that while Sebastian had activated the _beati _rune she had dug her nails so deeply into the rope it has frayed, leaving only a little string left. She tries not to show the freedom it has given her hands. She's muffled the euphoria as much as she can and she turns to a grinning Sebastian, his eyes sparkle but hold caution.

"You were going to take my blood anyway?" Clary glares at Sebastian.

"It can't be helped Clarissa. If you would just see that you could end this war right now if you just cooperate," Sebastian says crossing his arms in front of his chest and coming round to her front.

"Can't be helped," she repeats slowly, "You're a fucking psycho! I hope Jace kills you!"

Sebastian kneels in front of Clary and pries apart her legs to place his hands on her thighs, scooting up between them so Clary has to look down at his face. "Look at me Clarissa. Do you think Jace can actually kill me? That I would let Jace anywhere near me or you for that matter without tearing him limb from limb."

Clary's eyes flare in hate, he'd stepped over a line. Even though she knows she doesn't deserve him anymore, she won't let him make threats toward Jace. She knees Sebastian in the face and then kicks him in the chest as she rips the remaining rope off and jumps on top of Sebastian. She throws a punch and Sebastian has regained enough sense to block her fist with his forearm and rolls her over onto her back.

Clary drives a knee into Sebastian's stomach and he rolls over again with Clary on top and she drives a fist into his jaw. As soon as she lands the blow Sebastian retaliates by placing a foot on her stomach and vaulting her over him backward. She lands on her back on the hard marble floor, knocking the breath from her lungs.

Sebastian flings himself on top of her and pins her arms to the floor. She kicks out her legs but Sebastian sits on her thighs so she can't move. "Get off!" she screams, "You lied to me! I had trusted you! But no you had to live up to your demonic standards and pin the most unethical experiment on our father!"

"Have you looked at me lately? Have you looked in the mirror? Taking blood is the least we've had done to us," Sebastian says calmly.

"That still doesn't justify taking your sister's blood! Or lying. I had given you my trust, given it to you in hopes that it could help heal you, but you broke it! You broke it, how, Sebastian, do you expect me to love you if you can't hold such simple a thing as my trust?" Clary doesn't know where her words came from; possibly somewhere _deep_ in her subconscious or maybe her broken outer layer that has become numb to her but she turns her face away from Sebastian's cutting black eyes, scouring every inch of her face for something she doesn't know.

For the first time in a long time she has left Sebastian speechless. He stares at her with his black eyes flitting across her face and hair. He purses his lips and furrows his brow. He then pulls Clary up off the floor while she struggles against his grip, clawing and screaming but he just throws her over his shoulder and trudges down the hallway. He drags her into his room and throws her into the bathroom. He slams the door shut and she hears a bolt click.

"Really Sebastian! A damn bolt!" She slams herself against the door repeatedly, heaving all her weight into the wood. She hears it crack but not before Sebastian's wrenched open the door and grabbed Clary's wrists. He wrests them behind her back and ties them together with a much thicker piece of rope then swings the kicking and screaming Clary into a metal chair he's dragged in. Taking a leather strap he winds it around her torso and the chair, immobilizing her.

Once the strap is in place, Clary's anger seethes into a dark, silent fury. Sebastian sits down on the edge of the bed facing her and puts his elbows on his knees. He lets his hands hang between his legs and stares at her, his eyes look at her with curiosity, as if trying to piece something together that bewilders him to no end.

She stares right back, yet her gaze holds no curiosity, no tenderness, just a black fury that has seemed to consume her, to blind her in some way though she could see Sebastian perfectly well. She stares and Sebastian stares, they both face each other in silence, one analyzing the other.

If Clary looks long enough into Sebastian's black lightless eyes her mind starts creating pictures, images in the sifting blackness. She can't quite make them out though, just vague shapes flying through his irises.

They sit in silence for hours, taking each other in. Somewhere in the in between Clary dozed off, for only a little while and woke to Sebastian still staring. After a few more hours Sebastian leaves and comes back with a sandwich, plain and simple, chicken and cheese, cut in halves. Clary eyes him suspiciously as he sets the plate down on his dresser and moves over to crouch in front of Clary. He stares again for a moment and readjusts the strap on her torso to her thighs and waist then unties her hands, retying them in her front.

Still saying nothing he hands her the sandwich and sits back on the bed and watches her again. Clary refuses to be the first one to break the silence so she scrutinizes the sandwich carefully then takes a bite, still starving from her many days of not eating.

She has no clue what time it is, but Sebastian has laid down on the bed now. She doesn't know if he's faking sleep or not but she knows she should go to sleep. The leather strap gives her little wiggle room but she makes due, letting her bound hands rest in her lap, and falls asleep.


	10. The Angel's Downfall

_**Alright guys the time has finally come. Don't judge me, I tried and as you might know I don't have experience seeing as we're all fangirls/boys who sit at their computers all day reading. Sorry if it's bad. Could use suggestions on whta to do next.**_

Clary wakes from a bleak and dreamless sleep. Her head hangs to the side and she has a crick in her neck. She drags both her still bound hands to rub the side of her neck.

"Ow," she mutters, as her eyes remain closed.

"She speaks," Clary hears from the darkness.

Clary gasps, trying to jump out of her chair but finding herself still strapped to it, her movement makes the chair fall back and crash onto the floor. Her head hits the carpet, it's not jarring enough to warrant dizziness but it still hurts.

The lights turn on and it blazes in her eyes. She sees a shadow float into her vision and as her eyes adjust to the light she sees Sebastian with a slight smirk on his face. "Aren't we clumsy this morning," he says, hauling the chair up to sit correctly.

"When one is tied to a chair they tend to not have the best coordination," she grits through her teeth still rubbing her neck. Sebastian sees her distress and reaches out a hand. Clary flinches away.

"I'm not going to hurt you Clarissa," Sebastian says with a laugh in his voice.

He reaches his hand all the way and places it on her neck where the knot is. Immediately pleasure courses through her neck and the crick unravels. Sebastian pulls away, still smiling.

Clary glares. "Why are you so happy?"

Sebastian stands up and walks behind her, trailing a hand on her collarbone to shoulder, shooting pleasure bursts through her chest. He lets out a slight chuckle and leans down next to her ear. "We're finally alone," he whispers seductively.

Fear shoots through her and she does the first thing her nerves allow. She brings her bound hands behind her shoulder and grab Sebastian's shirt, using all her strength she heaves him over her shoulder.

He lands on his back between the floor and the bed with his head in her lap as he stares, astonished up at her. Clary moves her head to flip some hair out of her face and looks into Sebastian's shocked black eyes. "I prefer to spend my time alone," she growls.

Sebastian bursts into a grin. Damn it! Can't she kill his mood? It's disturbing seeing Sebastian so openly happy. The top of Sebastian's head is pressed against Clary's flat abdomen and his black eyes stare at her in amazement.

"You're better than I thought. All that time away from angel boy did you good," he says cheerily and springs up to face her forward. He slams his hands down on the armrests of the metal chair and brings his face close to hers. "And I intend to test that."

He releases the leather strap and hauls her out of the chair. He shoves her towards the door with her trying to dig her heels into the carpet. "What are you doing?" she protests as he gives up and swings her up onto his shoulder.

"Testing your strength sweet sister," he says as he throws open the only remaining door in the hallway. It's a standard Institute training room. High beamed ceiling with straps for acrobatics attached. Weapon lined walls with targets for archery, daggers and stuffed dummies for swordplay. The center of the room is cleared and has a mat lain down.

"What the hell!" she screams as he throws her down and she lands in a crouch. The two months that she hadn't been able to touch Jace she had taken to the training room to try to curb her anxiety. Izzy and Alec had come up to train with her on occasion and Jace had taken to training her because that didn't require touch. She had gotten very good because she spent most of her time in those two months in that training room. She'd also taken out her stress for when Sebastian would come and get her.

Now her skills kick in again and she springs up in a fighting stance as Sebastian rounds her with a predatory grin. "Shouldn't you untie my hands?" she says waving her bound hands in front of her.

Sebastian makes a clicking sound with his tongue and shrugs his shoulders, still circling her. "Sorry little sister but I want to know what you're capable of."

He dives for her and she dodges easily to the left. He rounds on her, kicking out at her knees but she jumps and his leg swings through the air. Sebastian dives again, feigning right but Clary doesn't catch it in time and Sebastian slams her to the ground. Clary brings her elbow up to slam into Sebastian's face and simultaneously brings her knee into his stomach. He rolls to the side and Clary flips up and runs to the wall lined with wicked daggers. She pulls one and quickly slits the rope while she feels Sebastian come up behind her. The ropes fall away and she swings the knife around towards Sebastian's chest, making to slash across it, but he catches her wrist as she brings her fist up and smashes it into his face. He staggers back and she slams her foot into his chest, he falls back onto the floor. She lands on top of him and pins his arms down under her knees. She's swinging to kill and she knows Sebastian can break her hold at any moment so she arches the knife down to his heart. Sebastian's eyes fly wide and and he moves his arm under her knee. She loses her footing and slips so the knife cuts a shallow slash on his chest. He hisses and rolls the still unbalanced Clary over and pins her hands above her head with one hand, ripping the dagger out of her grasp. She struggles but Sebastian sits on her thighs, immobilizing her legs. He makes sure to touch her wrists on her skin so the _beati _rune flares, she gasps and Sebastian brings his lips down on her mouth sending more waves through her. She rips her mouth away and yells, "No fair!"

She gasps again as Sebastian kisses her neck, she whimpers and whines and struggles under her brother. "Sebastian," she grumbles her voice hitching. She's panting now, from effort of training and Sebastian's touch. The pleasure feels so good now that she giggles; she's appalled and immediately shuts her mouth before another giggle can escape. The pleasure is making her drunk; it's clouding her vision and dampening her burning hatred for her brother.

Her vision blurs down only to Sebastian's white blond hair. She pushes down the pleasure enough to whimper, "Sebastian that's not fair. You can't use that stupid pleasure rune," she thrashes underneath him, "I thought we were training."

"We were, until you decided to land killing blows, naughty girl. Then I decided to catch you at an emotional high and turn it against you," he murmurs against her neck, "Hence the clouded vision." He laughs to himself and pulls a stele out of his back pocket, drawing a binding rune on her wrists. He pulls her into his chest and a kiss, taking hold of her lip and holding her there while he lifts her up off the ground. She lets out a yelp as he stands up and she has to wrap her legs around his waist and swings her bound wrists around his neck so she doesn't fall. She tries to pull away from his mouth but he keeps her bottom lip in between his teeth and sucks on it. She whimpers and keeps her legs wound tightly around his waist because his grip stays loose as if he wants her to cling to him.

Outside the training room in the hallway Sebastian pushes her up against a wall and kisses her ferociously. Secured against the wall he releases her lip and drags his tongue along it. He buries his face in her neck and pulls her off the wall and kicks open a door. Clary could have sworn it wasn't there before or maybe she just hadn't looked for it.

Sebastian kisses her neck then, her chest bared by the black V-neck shirt. Still panting hotly she looks around the room. It's a huge room, an octagonal vaulted ceiling of dark stained wood. Three of the sides have double doors leading out to a wraparound balcony looking out on the sprawling blue sea. There's a sitting area with plush, cushioned lounge chairs and a large fireplace. The bed is decked in a black comforter and is larger than any bed Clary's ever seen, almost as big as her entire room at Luke's house.

She's starting to panic she doesn't want this. This can't happen… but in the blackest corner of her mind a little voice says _No you _need _this_. She's been so devoid of a caress or a kiss for the past almost three months now that her body aches for it. At the moment Sebastian and his rune are making it easier and easier to listen to those black corners. He walks her over to the bed, which she sinks into, and he gently lies on top of her. This isn't like the first time where she kicked and struggled but now… now she lets him run his hands over her torso and push up her shirt.

Her muscles cry out and so does her heart. She needs this. Her wrists, seemingly glued together by the rune, pull Sebastian down onto her. Her rush of emotions overwhelms her as she lets them take control. The immobility rune on her wrist fades and she cups Sebastian's face bringing it back up to hers and crushing her lips against his. She definitely needed this and Sebastian knew how to do it.

"Excited are we?" Sebastian purrs against her as he rips off her shirt. He lightly traces his fingertips along her skin, sending shivers all her own down her spine.

All she can do is moan and arch her body up into his. He pushes her back down into the bed and groans himself. The rune on her collar burns as though it's actually on fire and powerful waves, more powerful than before, course through her body, tugging her gut, tearing her heart and pulsing through her.

Sebastian kisses her neck then her jaw then on her mouth again, flicking his tongue across her teeth. Clary moans into her brother's mouth and his hands slide into her jeans to slip them down her legs and toss them across the room. He runs his hot hands down her sides and she feels something press against her leg. She laughs softly and says, "I'm not the only one."

As soon as the seductive words leave Clary's mouth Sebastian tears off his shirt in a great hurry and kisses Clary again reverently. She moves her hands down to his pants, her fingers brush over the button and Sebastian's grip around her back tightens, squeezing her tightly to him as she undoes the button and Sebastian slides off his jeans.

Sebastian drags his hand tauntingly down her bared stomach, trailing fire and pleasure. "Please," Clary says as Sebastian fingers her waistband.

"Whatever my dear sister wants," Sebastian whispers in her ear and slowly tugs off her jeans. Before Clary can comprehend Sebastian's next movement her bra and panties are gone and so are his boxers. Sebastian stares, cherishing the sight of his beautiful naked sister. Then his black eyes turn lustful and it's a blur.

Pressures and pleasures, screams of pain overcome by a sweet curl in her stomach. Sebastian never slowed except when he had first entered; he paused and gently, tenderly kissed her neck. He had soothed her until her whimpers turned to moans and pleas to continue. Their breaths mingled as Sebastian lay his head on her bare chest and continued his rhythm. The curl tightened and the waves of pleasure overriding her system to the point that she could no longer hear Sebastian's lustful moans. Then when her hearing returned she heard Sebastian falling over his edge screaming out her name and Clary soon follows but instead of screaming Sebastian she calls out, "Jonathon!"

Sebastian collapses on top of the panting Clary, heaving air in through her lungs as Sebastian's bare chest presses into her skin, not allowing Clary to come down from her high. She struggles to push Sebastian's heavy, sweaty body onto the bed so she can have some relief. Finally clear minded she stares at the ceiling in horror. She just had sex with Jonathon. She just had _sex_ with _Jonathon_, _willingly!_

She drags her hands down her face. "Oh my god," she says slowly. Jonathon is still panting off to the side. "Oh my god."

"Are you a broken record?" Jonathon asks slipping an arm around her naked waist. The _beati _rune pulses but its only affect is making her burst into tears at the guilt. She cries and sobs and her voice hitches.

"No, I just had _sex _with you," she sobs.

"And what a whirlwind that was," Jonathon says gently, kissing her neck.

What will Jace think of her when he finds her? _If _he finds her. Now she knows she's sinned; now she knows the angels frown down on her. She can never have Jace back, never again. How will she face the Lightwoods and Simon after what she just did? Oh my god, what about her mother! She'd be furious, yes Jonathon had taken precautions but she was seventeen! Stress closes around her throat.

But then… what if this was meant to happen? What if she and Jonathon are so different, so genetically mutated that it doesn't matter? What if it's no difference if she had had sex with Jace? Well, except it would've been Jace.

Clary realizes how futile this mental breakdown is. She should just give up now; give up on trying to be good, trying to be the angel, when she knows she's fallen. It would be so much easier on her.

"My sweet angel," Jonathon says sweetly.

"Not anymore," Clary whispers dreadfully. Jonathon pulls the covers up over them and pulls Clary close to his chest.

Jonathon looks Clary in her blazing green eyes. "You will always and forever be an angel, my angel. The angel to my demon remember?"

She nestles into Jonathon's chest despite the rune on her collarbone. She shakes her head. Clary's given up fighting. It's taken too much to fight against her brother and she doesn't deserve the terror it might spare her.

That doesn't mean though that she forgives Jonathon. He still lied, he still plans to take her blood, he tied her to a chair, chained her to a wall, whipped her, and repeatedly tormented her. No, no forgiveness will she give Jonathon, just his satisfaction that he knows she's broken; now it means he'll get his way just as he always seems to. Jonathon leans back on the pillows; his face still turned towards his sister's tear streaked one, his arm still wrapped around her shaking form.

Clary feels immensely tired now, after training, if you could call it that, crying, and the unspeakable deed she just performed with Jonathon out of her own lust filled, clouded head. She can feel her eyelids drooping and she lets out a long tired breath. The effort and exertion taken from her just now is too much. Just as she fades to blackness she hears Jonathon say, "I love you little sister."

Clary stands in the Institute foyer. Jace stands in front of her, his brows furrowed as he stares at Clary. Clary can't help but feel scrutinized as Jace's golden eyes scan her from head to toe. She takes a step toward Jace.

He takes a step back as a look of betrayal flashes across his face. "How could you?"

Dread fills her stomach. He knows. He knows what she and Jonathon did it. Tears rise to her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks. "Jace I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Clary how could you? You betrayed me. You slept with him. With your own brother." His face contorts into something that resembles pain and it tears at her heart.

"Jace please. I'm sorry…" She can't think of any excuse. She can't excuse her terrible sin. She betrayed Jace and he felt like he had been gutted and she in turn too.

"No Clary this is unforgivable. Don't you ever show your face again. Now that you've done what you've done we've called off the search. Sebastian seems to be taking care of you pretty well." Jace glares at her.

It cuts deep into her chest like a dagger. The tears cascade down her face now as she pleads with Jace. "Please, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Please Jace."

He turns away from her in disgust and it finally drives a crack through her heart. She yells at Jace, pleading it wasn't her fault, pleads until her throat turns raw but Jace won't face her, he walks away down the hall and disappears around a corner calling behind him, "Get out Clary. Never comeback!"

She sinks to her knees as tears blur her vision and she hugs herself mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She sits bolt upright gasping, hugging the covers to her chest as tears spill from her eyes and she can still see Jace's angry face glaring at her. She looks out the window through watery eyes and sees it's about midday. Her chest aches and her heart burns as the tears stream down onto her naked chest.

As soon as Clary started sobbing Jonathon sat straight up next to her, looking around in confusion. His eyes land on her and flash with concern.

"Clary?"

"I didn't mean to," she says through the tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Clarissa," Jonathon says, pulling her into his arms. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Clary angrily wrenches away from him and tears out of bed, picking up Jonathon's shirt since he tore hers and rushes to lock herself in the master bathroom. She turns on the shower and immediately steps under the freezing stream of water. It cools her burning body and hot face and soothes her aching nether regions.

She lets the water stream over her as she leans her head against the glass. She is despicable, how could she? Was that the actual Jace in her dream? Did he really know what she did? Does he really hate her so and has called off the search for her?

She can't think as Jonathon knocks on the door after she's stepped out of the shower.

"Go away!" she screams. She quickly dries off and throws on Jonathon's shirt.

"No Clarissa, let me in." His voice suggests he is not expecting argument.

"No!" She hurls the waded up towel at the door and it makes a satisfying thud.

Clary doesn't want to see Jonathon; she just wants to sit alone for the next few hours maybe even the rest of her life. The shame claws at her throat as she sinks to the ground and lets the tears fall again.

She hears Jonathon sit down on the floor outside the door and lean his head back. He lets out a sigh and says, "I'll wait."

He waited for a long time because Clary locked herself in the bathroom for six hours. All she did was cry and regret and battle anger and lust and heartache. So she sat, wondering if the she would ever have a pure enough soul to get into heaven when the time came. _That time might be sooner than I thought._


	11. Angel's Wrath

_**This is sort of a time waster chapter but it has some intresting stuff in it. The next chapter will definitely be more exciting and anger and lust filled trust me. In the mean time enjoy! Comment your review.**_

_**Oh and some more news I'm working on another Clabastian story. Sorry for the Clabastian spam, I'm going through a phase. I'll post it later this weekend probably.**_

_**-Fangirl703 (Cat)**_

After Clary had cried herself dry she gets up slowly, her body cramped and aching from sitting on the bathroom floor for six hours. She walks over to the door and opens the locked brown wood. She inches it open, feeling a weight pressed against it. Jonathon slides down onto the floor, asleep with his arms crossed against his chest. Door open, Jonathon on the floor, Clary steps over him and walks over to one of the three interior doors.

The closet is more like a separate smaller room. A sitting couch mirrored sliding closet doors, rows of dark stained drawers and a hanging light fixture shedding warm light through the closet.

Clary feels empty, a hollow shell. She can't summon any reaction now to what she and Jonathon had done, can't summon a feeling of guilt towards Jace or a sense of hopelessness that he had called off the search for her, or hatred for her brother, she feels nothing. Her expression resembles boredom because she doesn't have the strength to summon anything else.

She blindly pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a tight fitting shirt. Even though she can't feel anything doesn't mean she doesn't need to distract herself. She pulls on knee high combat boots and laces them up then walks out into the bedroom to see Jonathon still asleep on the floor in his boxers. She grows suspicious because her brother is not one to sleep while others are about.

Maybe he knows she's broken now and won't try to escape. Maybe he trusts her not to leave or kill him. She could easily slit his throat right now and be done with all this. She crinkles her nose and leaves the room, heading again towards the training room. It is probably about midnight now but she isn't tired seeing as her sleep pattern hasn't exactly been normal.

She steps into the dark training room and makes her way to the witchlight torches she saw earlier. She touches each one in turn until the room is illuminated just enough for her to see the targets on the wall, the other sides of the room are shrouded in late night darkness.

She takes a handful of throwing knives from the wall and lines herself up with the target. Pulling her throwing arm taut she lets the knife fly through the air to hit the dim target. Dead center. Her night vision has gotten better ever since she had her sight rune permanently inked onto her body.

She throws the rest of her knives and walks to retrieve them. Placing them back on the rack she grabs a bow and a quiver full of arrows. She places the quiver on her belt and draws an arrow back in her bow. Archery isn't one of her best but practice makes perfect. She relaxes her muscles and focuses down the arrow shaft toward the target. The arrow whistles through the air and thuds into the target. Inner circle not the bulls-eye. She pulls another arrow back and loses it this time it lands dead center.

She blankly continues shooting arrows. Jonathon is still asleep in the bedroom. What was he trying to accomplish when he said he'd wait? It's not like he actually cares about Clary, just his selfish demonic needs. He only wants someone to hold his attention; he wants a toy he can use whenever he wants. His dark side has only shown itself once or twice while she's been here but she can see it bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin. She can see it churning in his black eyes, every time he looks at her it's with lust or want and on too many occasions has she seen his pants grow. He thinks she doesn't notice but it's almost impossible not to.

It unsettles her how badly Jonathon wants her, she's only his plaything and when he's finished with her he'll kill her off just like he did Max. What bewilders her most is that he acts as if he cares, he's patient with her, most of the time. He soothes her, attends to her needs but not wants. If he attended her wants she would be back in Jace's arms. No he just takes care of her as much as she needs to be taken care of.

She realizes she's out of arrows so she walks to the target, removes all of them and switches back to knives. Jonathon just took her because he wanted something to torture, to see squirm. He's just using her to entertain himself like some child with ADHD. How dare he? She's not a toy; she's a person not to mention his sister. That has to count for something, no matter how twisted those circumstances are. How can he go about saying he cares, acting the part but underneath all that not giving a damn about her! How can he bring her here and ask such ridiculous things of her and then treat her as if she doesn't have emotions or feelings. Just because he doesn't, doesn't mean he can treat her like this.

She should walk straight back into that god-forsaken bedroom and slap him up side the face. He doesn't get to act soulless and then do things like throw 'I'll wait' in her face like he cares. When will he stop these endless mind games? Doesn't he know that she isn't like him? She can't handle the mental exertion it takes to deal with him. He's infuriating and idiotic; she can leave right now, break a window and leave. She doesn't care if she gets lost, she can swipe a stele off Jonathon, even better, she can portal home!

She will not tolerate the incessant mind game Jonathon keeps pushing on her! She won't! She's finished with her brother; she doesn't want to spend another minute in this wretched mansion or another agonizing minute with him. She flings her last knife with an angry and frustrated grunt and it lands hilt deep in the wall. Looking at her knives now they get deeper and deeper into the wall. Getting deeper with her rising rage.

Fuming, she approaches the target and wrenches out a knife, placing it on her weapons belt. She does the same with the others, after the target is empty she leans her head against the wall. She feels movement behind her and before she thinks she takes the knife in her hand and throws it at the movement.

The shadow dodges quickly as the knife impales itself in the wall. The patch of white blonde hair looks at the knife in shock for a moment then turns to reveal her brother's smirking face.

"Angry little sister?" Jonathon says tauntingly.

It's as if he knows what she was thinking about, as if he knows how deep her hatred for him runs and he's playing it against her, toying with her with his stupid mind game again.

"Why don't you stand in front of the target and ask me again?" Clary grits trying to suppress her mounting anger.

"Touchy," Jonathon says, "Why such a sour mood?" He walks up to her, keeping his distance. Clary can see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes and she inwardly smirks. He's afraid she'll throw again.

"No reason that concerns you," she snaps and draws back as he takes another step toward her.

"Oh no? I can see in your eyes, it has everything to do with me. Why don't you share?" he asks coolly, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

"The last time I did that I got chained in the dungeon," she hisses venomously.

Jonathon seems to take all this in stride and he has the nerve to smirk. He's playing with her, toying with her mind. How dare he use his own sister like this and torment her so.

"That wasn't me at the time. It won't happen again you have my word," he says soothingly and takes another step forward.

"I don't trust your word Jonathon nor do I want it. I just want to be left alone," she says as her grip tightens on her next knife. He's edging closer to her and now she can feel the heat coming off his body.

"But I don't." As the words leave his lips she swings the knife upwards. She sees Jonathon smile slightly and he catches her wrist, spinning her around and holding her arm across her body. The pleasure rune beats slightly but she's learned how to control it slightly so her anger still runs free.

"Let me go Jonathon," she growls.

"Why would I do that? I'm holding my beautiful sister in my arms, I'm happy where I am," he purrs as he leans down to kiss her neck. He wrenches the knife from her grasp and drops it on the floor. He unbuckles the weapons belt around her waist and it drops to her feet.

"Well I'm not Jonathon. Again. Can you not give me an hour of peace without your pestilence trying to dig its way under my skin? Without you trying to seduce me into bed!" she says as she struggles. He can't do this again. He can't play with her every moment of everyday and have her stay sane.

"Clarissa you had six hours in that bathroom and another hour in here, I sat and watched patiently for your hour Clarissa. I'm bored so let's have a little fun shall we?"

What Jonathon is going to do next embodies the meaning of angry sex. She can feel his inner demon seep out into his outer shell. He roughly holds her by the waist and then crouches down, bringing her sweatpants with him.

Clary goes rigid; she doesn't want to give Jonathon's demon any more reason to come out. She strains not to kick Jonathon away as skims his hands back up her bare thighs, pushing her shirt up as he does.

"Jonathon…" she starts but Jonathon cuts her off. He pulls her flush with him and cups a hand over her mouth.

"Clarissa," he snaps, "If you don't behave I won't hesitate to make you drink from the Infernal Cup. Do you understand me?"

Clary can hear the building anger in his voice and her body starts to shake ever so slightly. She nods slowly trying not to look back at Jonathon.

"Good," he says and removes his hand. He turns her face towards him and kisses her roughly. Clary can feel the dark desire coming off him and she's scared of what Jonathon might do. She decides to return as much of what he's forcing upon her so she spins her body around and cups his face, roughly kissing him back but makes sure Jonathon can feel her anger.

Jonathon lets a low growl sound from the back of his throat and presses her up against him. Clary works Jonathon's shirt up his body and breaks the kiss momentarily. Jonathon takes the moment to pull off Clary's shirt and picks her up so he can kiss her stomach. Clary bends down to grab his chin and turns it upwards so he has to crane his neck to kiss her. He backs up, stumbles really, to slam against the wall. Clary's hand shoots out to steady herself and she wiggles out of Jonathon's grasp to pull down his pants.

She kisses his neck and he lets another growl from the back of his throat. He digs his nails into her back and she moans with pain. The sound spurs Jonathon to slide down the wall and lay on the ground with Clary on top of him.

She splays her hands across his chest as he slips his hands between them and pulls down his boxers and her panties. His body heat burns into her skin as she finally allows the pleasure rune to have some pull.

Jonathon notices this and quickly enters her pulling a scream from her. He thrusts harder at her scream and he moans as she quickly kisses him hard, curling her body into his. Clary can feel his animalistic side seep out further as he drags his nails down her back, cutting flesh.

Clary pulls back to muffle her slight scream. Clary decides to return the favor as Jonathon thrusts harder pulling a moan from her. She digs her nails down the sides of his abdomen and she feels the warm liquid of Jonathon's blood run over her fingertips.

Jonathon laughs lowly as he kisses her neck and sucks on her skin hard enough that she knows it will leave a bruise. Damn it! She doesn't want more physical reminders of this terrible deed. Clary takes her anger out by snapping her hips against Jonathon pulling a moan from his lips.

Jonathon rolls her over so he is supported on his elbows over her. She cups the back of his neck and pulls his mouth down so she can draw his lip between her teeth just as he did to her yesterday. He smiles against her mouth and pushes into her slowly, curling her stomach and making her bite Jonathon's lip harder.

Biting his lip makes him moan again and thrust into her violently. His movement makes her arm shoot out and knock his elbow so he falls on top of her. His weight pushes all the air from her lungs but instead of getting up Jonathon wraps his arms around her back and brushes against the fresh scratches. She lets out a pained sound and Jonathon pulls back.

"Shh," Jonathon whispers, tenderly kissing her until the pain fades and he resumes his rhythm. Clary is nearing the edge, the wonderful euphoria that can only come from this. Jonathon moves one more time and she's shoved over the edge. She screams her release as Jonathon follows shortly after, digging his fingers once again into her back.

She arches into him as they both come down from their high; Clary's still lingering because of Jonathon's ridiculous pleasure rune. Clary pants and gulps air, they did it on the floor of the training room, how low can she sink?

"There Jonathon, you got what you wanted now get off me!" She says angrily, shoving Jonathon onto the floor. She gathers up her clothes and pulls on her sweatpants, leaving her in just her sports bra and pants. She looks for her shirt but finds it ripped on the floor, she sighs exasperation and shoves Jonathon with her foot.

"Leave so I can train," she says in disgust throwing his pants at him. Jonathon lays there with a confused expression, looking up at his sister who glares down at him.

"No," Jonathon says pulling on his pants.

Clary's anger boils. "Yes," she snaps.

"No," he says, climbing off the floor and looking down at her. She hates his height; she has to crane her neck to look up at him.

Clary huffs angrily and turns around, stomping off towards the swords and the dummies. She pulls a sharp tipped sword off the wall and places herself in front of the dummy, trying to block out Jonathon's hot gaze on her still bare torso.

She swings the sword down but before it can hit the dummy another sword clashes with the metal. She swings around to see Jonathon holding a sword of his own. He holds a wicked grin on his face.

Clary pulls back and swings the sword down towards his arm. Jonathon spins away and stands in an offensive stance.

"I thought I told you to leave," she growls.

"And I told you no. What if I just want to spend some quality time with my little sister? Swinging swords to the death and all," he says and swings his sword down towards her and she blocks it, the metal raining sparks.

"I never said it was to the death," she says circling him suspiciously.

"I didn't either but your eyes say otherwise."

She hates how easily he can read her. She can feel her fury in her eyes and she can see Jonathon's laughter in his. She lunges and Jonathon dodges.

"If you're just going to toy with me I'm not practicing with you!" she says lowering her sword cautiously and placing it back on the wall. Her back is turned on Jonathon and she immediately regrets it. Jonathon comes up behind her and places the sword to her throat.

"Come on Clarissa. Don't be a kill joy," he says whispering in her ear.

She won't give him anything to play with so she stands with her back to Jonathon's chest; she glares at the wall because she can't turn to face Jonathon.

"Do whatever Jonathon but don't involve me," she says twisting his wrist to turn the blade away and turning to leave.

"But all of my plans involve you, little sister. Nothing's fun without you," he calls after her.

"Well then I guess you're going to be bored for the rest of the day," she says walking out the door and into Jonathon's old bedroom. She finds the lock and engages it, shedding all her clothing and walking to the shower.

Turning it on she steps under the water and scrubs herself until her skin is red. Jonathon touched her, marked her, injured her. She wants all remnants of him off but Jonathon won't give her a stele. She gently runs her soapy hands over the cuts Jonathon gave her.

She hisses as she nicks them, they're deep. Jonathon's due for a pedicure she thinks as she steps out of the shower and pats herself dry. She puts her bra and pants on but leaves her back bare so she can repair her cuts the mundane way.

After she put the disinfectant on she wraps white bandages around her waist. Her entire back is still sore from being thrown onto the ground, repeatedly. She doesn't bother putting a shirt on because it's bound to be torn off again.

She walks back out into the hall and checks both ways looking for Jonathon but finds nothing. She turns down into the foyer and walks toward the dining hall. Inside she finds the servants door. She's hungry all of a sudden, even if it is probably two a.m.

She pushes into the kitchen and finds a restaurant style kitchen. She walks over to the giant fridge and pulls out an apple. She takes a bite as she sits down at the counter and stares at the juice from the apple pooling in her bite mark.

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know how to deal with Jonathon or cope with her captivity. She leans her head down on the cold countertop and lets the cool seep into her, cooling her burning body and temper.

She breathes in and out slowly, letting her mind drift back to Jace and New York. She remembers when Jace had trained with her; they were secured in the harnesses on the ceiling and were chasing each other around the rafters, trying not to fall.

Jace had finally caught her around the waist and they were balancing on the wood rafter. Jace had gotten desperate and so had she, the moment had built. She turned around and kissed Jace fiercely and he had kissed back. They stayed locked in each other's embrace until Clary's skin had turned bright red and Jace had noticed.

He pulled away in shock and mumbled apologies. Clary had waved it away and kissed him again enduring the burn until her skin felt as though it were on fire.

Clary smiles into the counter at the memory. Her smile melts as she hears a footfall and then she's pulled into a body lock. Jonathon holds his hand against her mouth and his arm is wrapped around her waist.

"Little sister, I thought I should teach you a lesson. It won't hurt, at first, but you won't behave yourself so I have to do this."

Clary's vision blackens as her anger returns and she slumps against her brother's body.


	12. Turn of the Angel

_**Longest chapter yet guys, building up to some big things hope you guys like it! :)**_

Even before, she's conscious again her hatred rages. How dare he? How dare he drag her into some dank cell just because she is doing what she wants and not becoming some pathetic, weak play toy for him?

She peels open her eyes to find Jonathon staring at her with his arms crossed, glaring at her like a naughty child. She tries to hit him but is pulled back when her shoulder pops and she slams back against a wooden post. Her arms are tied behind her, around the post, and another strap encircles her waist. Her hatred and anger just multiplies as she tugs on her bindings.

She keeps silent, knowing Jonathon will revel in her speaking first. He continues anyway.

"You know I should have made you drink form the Cup the second you got here. You've been nothing but trouble," he says still scrutinizing Clary.

Clary can't resist the urge to snap back, "Yes but you've enjoyed every minute of shoving that on me. Don't you?"

"It is rather fun to see you squirm, Clarissa but I don't particularly enjoy seeing you in distress," Jonathon says, knitting his brows.

"For someone who doesn't like my distress you sure do cause a lot of it!" she snaps.

"I can't help it if Valentine had injected that demon blood into you or that I had to whip you…" Jonathon begins but Clary cuts him off.

"But you did! You stopped; you only gave me ten lashes when that bastard told you twenty!"

Jonathon stands in silence for a moment, processing her words. "That is because that _bastard_ didn't know left from right! He was insane, thinking he could rid the world of demons and Downworlders! My plan is better, I'm not going to obliterate every one of the demons and their spawn and overthrow the Clave, well I am going to do that, but not try to wipe them off the planet! That's impossible! I'm going to use you, your blood and your mind to take over. We'll be the new king and queen of the Shadowhunters and the demons won't dare oppose us because we are the embodiment of Heaven and Hell." Jonathon cuts himself off, realizing he's ranting and Clary's stares in amazement.

A queen? Really? She doesn't know if that is good or bad, let's go with bad. He hasn't failed to disgust her yet. He's going to use her blood still, to fuel his disgusting excuses for Shadowhunters. He called them the embodiment of Heaven and Hell. She guesses that's true, with her abundance of angel blood and his of demon blood. They're each other's balances. It makes her shudder.

"What so just because I'm some angel that means you get to torture me and imprison me?" Clary yells, trying to keep her anger high.

"Yes because you still haven't realized that you are my balance, you are supposed to be with me not angel boy. You two would just burn each other out because both of you are light. He was only made for an extra, if you couldn't handle me on your own but you've proven otherwise, you would've broken by now if you couldn't handle me. I'm not going to burn you out Clarissa, I'm dark and you are the light."

"What about all your stupid mind games? You're trying to push me into something I'm not. You're not letting me be!" Clary asks furiously.

"If you won't see you're the light, you'll join me in the dark. I only push because I know you can handle it…" Jonathon begins.

Clary snaps, something inside her breaks. "But what if I can't!" she yells furiously, on the verge of angry tears. "What if all your mind games and tricks and tests are driving me insane? What if they are slowly chipping away at my humanity? I don't want to be like you Jonathon! I can't be! You said yourself that I am the angel to your demon. So let me be!"

Clary sucks in her breath, she just asked Jonathon to let her love him, let her balance him and she realizes that she needs to. She needs to be here for her brother, she needs to balance him, that's what she was made for. She loves her brother because he is her brother, the brother Clary never got to have but he needs to let her be the angel, his opposing force. He can't force her down into the mold he wants if he is the one begging for the angel in her.

Jonathon looks as though Clary has just slapped him. In a sense she did.

"If you want me, if you want me to be your angel, you have to let me. All your games I will have to live with but you have to let me be who I am," she says quietly.

Jonathon steps closer to her, searching her face. "Do you know what it's like to be raised a monster?" he asks quietly.

A tear slips from her eye and Jonathon wipes it away with a gentle finger. "To be treated like one? Father used to whip me every time I came home dirty," he laughs sadly, "He said that one cannot be proud when one is dirty. Can you believe that? He was a crazy old bastard if you ask me."

Jonathon's gaze is far away now but he keeps close to Clary. "I was raised to be perfect in everything. I had to speak most languages flawlessly or Valentine would punish me. Every time, if I woke up even one minute after dawn he would scold me and whip me."

Clary doesn't understand why Jonathon is telling her this but it tears at her heart.

"He never loved me, not really. I was just his trained attack dog. He always used to go on endlessly about Jace, telling me how good natured he was but how vicious he could be. He told me that I need to think with my heart occasionally. He wanted me to be balanced because my humanity had been burned away so he wanted something with pure humanity. A pure being, something to guide me when my mind clouds with bloodlust and violence. He made you for that reason. He was lying when he said he didn't know Jocelyn was pregnant with you, of course he knew. He claimed he wouldn't experiment on his own children but he thought who better than my own sister to balance me. Someone with the same Morgenstern blood but someone who rose above the normal standards of humanity. He wanted a perfect being, one entirely light, one who couldn't help but find the good in a broken, dark demon like me. He made you for me, so you could love me with all your heart, so I wouldn't be alone in this world because no one else would ever even consider coming near me."

Jonathon's eyes are cloudy and glossy. He walks up to Clary carefully, unties her wrists, and undoes the strap around her waist. Clary stands there looking at Jonathon in shock. He looks like an injured puppy that no one will take in, like he's been rejected his entire life. That's because he has, no one has been able to understand him, see through his demon and the horrible deeds he's done.

Clary can't help herself, she pulls this wounded animal that is her brother into a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. Jonathon doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his sister. He buries his face in her hair and his body starts shaking in her grasp. It takes her a moment to realize that he is crying, crying because he didn't think he would ever have anyone. He would be alone in this world forever with their cruel, manipulative father who never really loved him. That he never held hope that he could have someone who could love him for who he is.

Clary realizes that he is wrong that he does have someone to love him. It's her; she does love him, with all her heart. She can see past the demon, see that he needs someone to have so he doesn't go insane himself.

His shaking body presses up against hers and she hugs him tighter. She never thought Jonathon would cry, ever. To show this weakness in front of her is to trust her entirely.

"Don't leave me, please, don't ever leave me," he whispers through his tremors and silent tears dampening her hair.

She pulls back and grabs Jonathon's chin, pulling his tear streaked face towards hers. He looks so vulnerable, so open it scares her.

"I won't Jonathon," she says softly looking into his black, shining eyes.

He pulls her roughly against him and fierceness pierces his eyes. "Swear on the angel you won't leave me," he growls, demanding and pleading at the same time.

Clary can't believe she's doing this. "I swear on the Angel that I will never leave you, Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern," she says barely audible.

Once the words fall from her lips, Jonathon kisses her fiercely, with a sad desperation touching his lips. Clary slowly returns the pressure, all her anger towards him shortly curbed with this broken hearted, unloved, vulnerable Jonathon that stands before her.

Jonathon pulls away and rests his head on hers, keeping Clary locked in his embrace. Clary can feel all the depression Jonathon has had to hide for the past seventeen years in this moment and it's horrible. Truly horrible to think their father had treated him so poorly, that he never thought anyone could love him, then when finally finding the one person who was supposed to be his and his alone fearing rejection from her as well.

This does not excuse in any way his previous actions but right now she can tell Jonathon isn't going to do anything, he just needs the comfort of his sister.

Silence endures as does Jonathon's tremors but as the silence threatens to suffocate Clary Jonathon speaks. "Could you ever love me?" he asks like a child asking if he can get a puppy.

Clary hugs him tighter. "Of course I love you Jonathon. You're my brother…"

"No!" Jonathon says violently. "Not like that," he says his voice softening.

Clary stands speechless for a moment, unsure if she does or not. "I couldn't tell you if I wanted to Jonathon," she finally whispers.

Clary feels something break inside her brother but tries to do something because she has to get out of this cell. "Let's go back to the bedroom. Okay?" Clary says looking up at her brother.

"Okay," Jonathon says hollowly. He takes her hand and leads her out into the hallway. The torture cell is just one hall over from where the bedrooms are and Jonathon leads her into the one with the wrap around balcony. _Their _bedroom. Jonathon sits down on the bed and Clary stands by the bed, but that moment is short-lived as Jonathon pulls her onto the bed and settles her onto his lap.

He leans back against the headboard with Clary sitting in between his legs. She faces him and he stares into her cracked emeralds. He just stares for a while, running his hands over her bandages now stained red from reopening the wounds he gave her. He seems calmer with his hands on her, running over her skin and teasing the _beati _rune.

The ridiculous pleasure rune. Clary laughs slightly. Not one week ago Jonathon forced that on her and tried to rape her. Now she sits in his lap, already having had sex with him not once but _twice_ with that stupid rune shooting flashes of pleasure through her, seemingly calming her temper and contemplating what she's going to do next.

She can't go back now; she has to stay with Jonathon. Maybe she can reason with him or lessen his wrath on her family. She wonders what Jace is doing now. Is he still searching for her? Does he know what she's done? Does he still love her? Even if he did if he found out what happened in the days of her captivity he would be disgusted with her. If he is, that makes the decision to stay with Jonathon easier, it means that those that she love will be safe and she won't have to worry if they have broken hearts.

She won't leave because she knows that if she leaves now Jonathon will go into a mad rage, probably kill all the people she loves and still burn down the world and force her by his side whether she agrees of not. It's better if she stays willingly and sways Jonathon to lessen his fury on the Clave and those she loves.

Jonathon runs a hand down her cheek lovingly. Clary decides to lie down because her body aches and doesn't want to sit up any longer. She crawls out of Jonathon's lap, which he begins to protest until she lays down next to him and lays her head on his chest.

He pulls her close, as if he's afraid she might disappear. She never thought Jonathon could be capable of fear and she can't help but wonder if Jonathon is playing her, using his mind games once again to twist her feelings.

Clary doesn't remember falling asleep but she wakes up with the sun shining through the glass doors to balconies. She looks over to see Jonathon asleep and instead of the scowl that usually occupies his sleeping features, he has a slight smile. Clary smiles to herself drowsily that Jonathon's somewhat happy for once, which surprises her why she actually cares doesn't make sense to her.

Maybe she's finally accepted Jonathon as her brother but not yet… the other thing and she's happy that he's happy for once. His smile, devoid of any malice or cunning makes his features soften and it accentuates his already regal beauty. She hasn't wanted to admit it but Jonathon is drop dead gorgeous with his high cheekbones and white blond hair. His sharp face that softens every time his eyes glance over her. Not to mention his toned body, defined biceps but not bulging, washboard abs that most girls would kill to have on their boyfriend, strong muscled chest.

She runs her hands over his chest, feeling the power of every muscle underneath her fingertips. Jonathon had taken his shirt off after she'd fallen asleep and she can see the scratches she gave him. Why hasn't he healed himself? He's the one with the stele. She traces the now scabbed over lines running from his lowest rib to his hip. Angel, his hips, he has the V-line prominently defined leading down his pelvis. She can't help herself; she traces the V-line down to the top of his pants.

She shudders at the memory of how he used his powerful muscles to hold her hips while he ravished her. She runs her hand over her hips and winces to find them extra tender. She pulls down her pants in curiosity and finds two blue-black bruises encompassing her hips, in the shape of hands, Jonathon's hands. Her pants are on her thighs as she traces the tender, discolored skin.

"That's a lovely thing to wake up to," Jonathon says.

Clary nearly jumps out of her skin in surprise. She thought Jonathon was asleep! She quickly pulls up her pants again and jumps out of bed to Jonathon's disappointment.

"Um… I thought… that you were," Clary begins.

"Asleep? I was until I felt your rather cold hands on my chest… and lower areas," he says lowly.

Clary blushes deeply. He knew she was tracing his muscles, admiring his strength and beauty. Jonathon smiles devilishly as his eyes rake his still half-naked sister. When his eyes skim the tops of her hips, landing on the blue-black bruises he frowns. He holds out a hand to her and says, "Come here."

Clary cautiously takes his hand and crawls back on the bed. She sits down facing away from him, Jonathon running his hand down her back. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a stele.

There was one sitting there the entire time? How could she not notice? Jonathon pulls her closer and pulls her pants down slightly. She feels the tip of the stele sting as it touches her skin, then relief as Jonathon sketches on an _iratze_. She watches as the blue-black bruises fade to a green-purple then disappear completely. She also runs a hand up her side and finds the deep scratches Jonathon gave her are fading too.

"Thank you," she says getting off the bed again and walking over to the bathroom. She feels awkward around Jonathon's tenderness. It feels out of place. She walks into the bathroom not bothering to shut the door completely and removes the white bandages. She runs her hand over the freshly healed skin and then removes her pants. No bruises. She walks to the shower and turns it on, quickly slipping out of her bra and panties.

She washes quickly and quietly. The glass of the shower stall fogs from the heat of the water and Clary traces an angelic rune in the steam, then an agility rune, soundless, strength, precision, an _iratze_. She looks down at her collarbone and sees the _beati_ rune. She quickly tries to copy the image onto the shower glass. It looks like a squiggle with two slashes down the middle with an infinity sign entwining the slashes.

It's become rather annoying but she's learned to control its affects so even if it is a permanent rune she can control how much pleasure Jonathon shoves into her body. She can let it have full control and either every time Jonathon brushes her arm she gasps or she can dull the affects to when he touches her she feels a twinge of pleasure. She can't completely mute the rune but controlling it is better than nothing.

She steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. As she dries off she notices Jonathon leaning against the sink. She jumps, letting out a shriek and hurries to cover herself.

"I've already seen everything," he says nonchalantly. "There's no reason to hide from me."

"What are you doing?" she asks wrapping the towel around her naked body despite Jonathon's comment. She's not going to walk around the house naked just because Jonathon's already _seen everything_.

"Waiting to take a shower. We've already been through this, I need to shower too."

He strips off his pants and boxers; Clary averts her eyes as quickly as possible. She edges over to the sink and grabs a hairbrush then rushes out into the bedroom then closet. She scrambles to find some clothes and throws on some jeans and a loose shirt which she later realizes is Jonathon's.

Jonathon comes out shortly in a towel while Clary lies on the bed, watching the ceiling. After getting dressed Jonathon hauls Clary off the bed.

"Hey!" she protests as Jonathon sets her down.

"What? We have things to do," he says dragging Clary after him.

"What things?" Clary asks suspiciously.

Apparently those things were putting her mind to the test. Jonathon was right, she has an excellent mind for strategy. Jonathon dragged her to a meeting room with demon Shadowhunters and had her help him plan an attack. While Clary has been here Jonathon has been launching multiple attacks. Clary decides to help but tries to make the attacks result in as few casualties as possible.

She feels dirty, condemning those she loves but right because she is lessening what Jonathon would have done to them. Months passed and Clary gave up that Jace would find her, which just made it easier to keep Jonathon in check. Soon she gave up that she would ever go back, Jonathon needed her. The Shadowhunters slowly fell until there was nothing left but the Gard to take down.

In the months that the unimportant battles were being fought Jonathon and Clary would sit in their bedroom at night watching movies. Jonathon always asked why this character did what, confused at the modern day mundanes and Clary laughingly explained. During the day Jonathon would train with her, improving further her skill with every weapon imaginable. She also got so good at hand to hand combat fighting that she could hold Jonathon off but never beat him.

At night after they had watched their movies Jonathon would draw her close and start relieving her of her clothes. She protested the first few nights but had grown used to it and even started enjoying it. Jonathon would caress her and pleasure her. He would pull every possible scream and moan he could from her while she returned the favor. He was always so gentle and loving, never going too fast or slow. Never going for longer than Clary could handle. Every night he would leave her unravelled and panting on the bed beside him. He felt so good that she started to think that he had done this entire life. Maybe he had.

Once the major battles had begun Jonathon left for five days. Clary enjoyed the solitude, being able to do what she pleased and not having to cook or clean because of the castle attendants. Clary often fell asleep curled up in their bed, missing Jonathon's warm body curled next to her.

Clary wakes up one morning and goes down to the kitchens for some breakfast. The servants all love her because she is gentle and caring towards them unlike Jonathon. She greets them by name as she sits down in the kitchen and grabs an apple.

They all address her as Mistress, apparently by Jonathon's orders who they call Master. She decides to go train for while with the bow and arrow. She quickly grows tired and retires to the master bedroom telling the servants to take the rest of the day off. She spends the rest of the day curled up in the sheets and pillows reading.

The sun sets and she continues reading until the night sky is filled with stars and the moon shines bright and full onto the ocean beyond. A knock sounds at her door and she's bewildered for a moment because only the maids knock and she gave them the day off. She closes her book and walks over to the door.

Opening it she gasps as she sees Jonathon standing before her, covered in blood and a bruise on his face. His body shakes from she doesn't know what but she can see that his demon lies on his outside now. It's like a dark aura surrounding him.

"The blood…" she begins shocked.

"Not mine," he says shortly. His eyes find hers and they seem desperate and dark, filled with a desire she can feel in her chest. "I need you, but I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he says raggedly, his voice betraying him.

Clary is scared; she can see how tense and rigid he is. He won't be gentle with her nor will he hold back. She can feel the darkness and desire seeping from his skin.

She trusts Jonathon now, she knows that he can handle himself even if his demon has taken control. She open her arms, "I trust you."

Relief floods Jonathon's eyes as he roughly takes hold of her and rips off her clothes. He carries her over to the bed, dragging kisses down her neck and chest, his grip on her hard enough to leave bruises. On the bed, Clary rips off Jonathon's clothes and he takes her, hard. He rips scream after scream out of her and she in turn makes him growl and scream and yell her name as their hips snap together.

She rakes her hands down his back and he growls into her mouth and he returns the favor, gripping her sides so hard they bruise and dragging his nails down her sides. She can feel the heat coming off of his skin like a heater and it burns her skin deliciously.

After an hour of screaming and scratching, yelling and pleasure Jonathon finally falls to the side panting and smiling, still covered in blood. The sheets are ruined but Clary doesn't care as she presses up against her brother and falls asleep.

She wakes up in the same position she was before and Jonathon frowns down at her. It's still dark out and she can't quite make out the rest of his features except his frown.

"What?" she asks trying to stretch and wincing.

"I hurt you," he says quietly.

"I hurt you too," she says tracing a hand down the marks she left on him.

He grabs her wrist and says, "No Clary, I can't hurt you. I'm supposed to be different with you. How can you stand me if I hurt you like this?"

Clary quickly climbs on top of Jonathon, pinning his arms down on the mattress with her hands. She knows Jonathon can easily break her grip but lets her have the power for now. "I'm supposed to be your angel right?"

Jonathon nods.

"I'm supposed to love you, every part of you?"

Jonathon nods.

"Then wouldn't it make sense that I would love this part of you too?" She says kissing him.

After she pulls back he asks, "Did you?"

"I wouldn't want it every time but yes, Jonathon, I loved it."

He breaks into a grin and pulls her into him. Clary lays there hugging him back, absorbing his heat, listening to his heartbeat. Clary can't help herself, she asks one of the most dangerous questions she can think to ask. "Do you love me?"

Jonathon tilts her chin up to look at him, in the complete darkness his hair and silver of his eyes stand out like beacons. "I don't think I can love Clary. But I know I need you, I need you to balance me and be there for me. And I hope that even if I can't love you'll still love me," he says quietly.

She stares at his black eyes, digesting what he just said.

"You should sleep. I have a surprise for you but it will take some time to prepare," Jonathon says.

She's unsure if she wants to see this surprise. All of his other ones have gone badly for her. She lets it go, knowing that she won't have to see it for a while and drifts back to sleep.


	13. Grim Realizations

_**Awesome, new chapter. I hope you guys realize how much I do for you. I mean I'm up at 5:26 am on a school day Tuesday posting this. I hope you enjoy it!**_

Clary woke the next morning to find Jonathon where he was last night. She finds it odd that she keeps waking up before him. Clary stretches out against Jonathon drowsily, like a cat and stands, walking over to the bathroom to assess the damage demon Jonathon did last night.

In all honesty, she's grown to like her brother's company and is not entirely opposed anymore to what they do under the sheets. She sees him now as a poor little boy who was raised on nothing but cruelty and discipline. This in no way excuses his actions but she can find pity for him now if she bothers to look.

He never got the chance to experience the tenderness of their mother or the loving care she would have shown him. He wouldn't have had to be beaten by Valentine. She wonders what it would have been like if her mother had stayed to try to right Valentine. She would've grown up with her brother but also her father. She shudders inwardly at the thought of her at five, wielding knives and undoubtedly dropping them. Valentine wouldn't have stood for that.

She shakes her head. "He's gone," she says to herself. She doesn't want to linger on any thoughts of her father. Walking into the bathroom, stark naked, she sees that she has bloodlines trailing down her side. Crossed with others, they look like talon marks. She also traces the long black bruises up her torso. Her thighs have friction burns on them.

She sees movement in the mirror as Jonathon gently winds his arms around her waist. His white blond hair tousled and unruly. He kisses her neck and smiles.

"Good morning," he whispers against her neck.

"We destroyed another pair of sheets," she mumbles as her eyes skim what she can see of his torn body. She can see bruises on his hips identical to hers but smaller and dried blood is painted across his back as well as still on his face.

"I don't care, I'll get new ones. I have to leave again tonight for a few days," Jonathon says as he pulls away and turns on the shower.

"Where did you go last time and why were you covered in blood last night?" she asks, watching Jonathon in the mirror.

He's facing away so she can't see his expression as he says, "There was an attempted ambush on my hunting party. Most of the Downworlders have sided with us but there was a rogue vampire clan that attacked us. They didn't last very long," he says stepping into the shower.

Clary, not wanting to remain bloodied and seeing as there's two showerheads in the giant stall she steps in after him. Jonathon's eyes widen as his little sister steps under a stream of burning hot water.

"What?" she asks accusingly as if she didn't just step in the shower naked with her equally naked brother. They've already had sex so a shower seems docile compared to the bed.

"Nothing," Jonathon says as he shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't take his eyes off her though as she scrubs away the blood covering her body.

"You going to wash?" she asks as she rinses off the suds. Jonathon had only absently scrubbed at his hair that is stained red, staring at his sister.

"Yes," he says snapping out of his daze.

Clary laughs as she steps out of the shower. Wrapping herself in a towel, she borrows the stele off the nightstand, Jonathon trusting her not to run and draws a quick _iratze _making the bruises and gouges fade then quickly gets dressed.

It's become fun to taunt her brother with herself. She's figured out how to play with him in his mind just as he's done to her. She's learned to taunt him out of sheer boredom; if she wasn't able to screw around with Jonathon, she might go insane from him having all the power.

She snatches the stele off the nightstand and carves a soundless rune into her forearm. Just as Jonathon comes out of the bathroom in his towel, she smiles at him and slips out the door.

"Come and find me!" she calls behind her racing down the confusing corridors. Jonathon loves hunting games, especially when he's after her. She's discovered this and uses it to her advantage. If he's leaving again tonight, she might as well do something fun before he goes and leaves her all alone again. Right?

She slips into the kitchen and grabs an apple on her way through; she takes a bite and leaves it on the counter for Jonathon to find. These games don't typically last very long but Clary's getting better at drawing them out. She zips out of the kitchen into the herb garden. Apparently, all the fruits and vegetables are naturally grown here.

She scales a hefty looking banana tree and waits for Jonathon to come bursting into the garden. He stalks through the trees until he passes her tree. She slips down and rushes back through the kitchen, knocking on the door to draw his attention.

She hears his low chuckle as she bolts back out into the dining room then dives back into the winding halls. She can hear Jonathon's light footsteps behind her. She takes out her stele and draws a powerful glamour on her other wrist. This one she makes sure that Jonathon can't see her even though he is a Shadowhunter.

She feels it sink into her skin and she presses herself up against the wall. She watches as Jonathon races past her with a predatory grin on his face. He thinks he has her. Her grin widens as she runs after Jonathon not three feet behind him making absolutely no noise.

She pointed her tracks in the direction of the training room so Jonathon assumes she has gone in there. He enters the vast room and stops in the middle of the floor. Looking around in confusion Jonathon spins his body around looking for her. Stopping he stands silently, arms crossing his chest. Clary can't help herself she silently stalks up to Jonathon and flicks his ear. He spins around and she jumps back. His eyes are scouring the room looking for her but she stands directly in front of him. Brief confusion flashes on his face then realization. He crosses his arms again and he says, "Using your runes is not fair, little sister."

"Neither is using your demon senses but you don't see me complaining," she says. Jonathon's eyes zero in on her voice and he reaches out for her quickly but she side steps.

Jonathon frowns. "I don't_ see_ you at all," he says.

"Maybe if you actually focus you could catch me," she says circling him, trying to confuse him. She can't help but take joy in seeing her brother helpless to catch her. If only she had a stele when he took her.

This stops her dead in her soundless tracks. When he took her. Not six months ago, she despised him and now she was playing games with Jonathon. Her heart rate picks up suddenly as she remembers Jace and those she left and is now condemning to fall in battle. How could she? But she needs to stay with Jonathon he needs her more than them; she was only a temporary blip in their lives. Jonathon needs someone to balance him and control his bloodlust so he doesn't end up burning down the entire world.

Jonathon lunges for Clary, probably alerted by her beating heart. They both fall backwards onto the floor; the second Jonathon's skin touches her, the glamour dissolves. Jonathon has her pinned on the ground with a triumphant grin on his face, which quickly turns to a frown, and his eyebrows knit.

"Why are you crying? Because you lost?" he says playfully trying to keep the mood light.

She hadn't realized that she had started crying. She wipes them away angrily, angry with her past suddenly jumping her and making her feel guilty all over again. "No! I would've won," she says turning her face away.

"Well then why didn't you?" Jonathon asks with a partial laugh.

"Because," she mumbles into the floor.

Jonathon pulls her up off the ground and stands up, placing Clary in front of him. He looks at her pointedly. "'Because' is not a suitable answer, try again," Jonathon says sternly.

She slips his grasp and moves toward the door. "I don't want to talk about it," she mumbles as she slides out into the hallway. Why is she still guilty? Can't she just get over it already? They gave up the search; she gave up her freedom to stay with Jonathon. She made her decision, so why is she still crying over it?

Clary hears Jonathon behind her but she doesn't care until he grabs her shoulder and she tries to wrench away. His grip only tightens and he slams her against the wall.

"Clary look at me," he says as tears stream down her face. This seems all too familiar. Her pinned against the wall and Jonathon demanding she look at him. This all happened six months ago when he first dragged her here.

"Don't make me Jonathon," she stutters out. She can't bear to look at him now, knowing that she has to betray her past life for him. She has to stay with this broken, unloved monster so he can… wait why is she staying?

Her mind buzzes as she tries to find a solid reason why she's staying. She's staying to help her family. She's staying because Jonathon needs someone. She's staying because Clary can't help but take her poor brother under her wing and care for him after he was so broken. No, no, no.

A little voice in the back of her mind whispers something. You're staying because you want to. You always felt like you were dragging Jace down. Here Jonathon has raised you to his equal. Here you've become more than what you ever could have been with Jace.

She sucks in a gasp as her mind belittles Jace, makes her into some sort of unwanted weight he had to carry for all those months. Maybe he never really loved her; she was just a hindrance to him.

She's staying because she didn't feel right where she had been but now she feels right with her brother. This just makes more tears fall as she squeezes her eyes shut. Jonathon moves his body to pin her against the wall while he uses his hands to gently cup her face, turning it towards him.

"Clarissa, I can't make you do anything. Not anymore but I would like it if you looked at me." Jonathon's voice is soothing and caring and loving and it splits her heart even more. He's just confirming that it feels right to be here with him. He's caring for his wounded angel in her time of need.

Clary slowly cracks her eyes open to see Jonathon's black, endless eyes staring at her. The silver separating the iris and pupil is pronounced as he focuses on her. The black that now fills her dreams and dances with her green eyes.

"Now could you please tell me what's wrong?" Clary's heart splits further as the love from his words seep into her skin.

"It would only upset you," she mutters.

"I promise you it won't."

Clary takes a deep breath and prepares her thoughts that are going to fall out of her mouth in a disorganized word avalanche. "When you took me I hated you but then when Valentine left I realized you needed me so I rationed with myself that I needed to stay. That my old life could survive without me. Then I started thinking what if I never mattered to Jace or the Lightwoods or anyone because they would have found me by now and that I was just a hindrance to them, an untrained mundane, and then I realized that I do belong with you and that you care and you take care of me and you love me and that I should've been with my brother the entire time because I couldn't even trust my mom. That my brother is the only person who's really cared about me and I felt guilty because of it." She says all this in one breath and cringes away, waiting for Jonathon's reaction as she pants from the flood that just came from her mind to mouth.

Jonathon draws in a breath as if to yell at her and fear grips her throat. Before Jonathon can get any words out Clary lets out in a strangled scream, "You promised!"

"I did and I intend to keep that promise. Please look at me," Jonathon says calmly.

Curious at where his reaction went she opens her eyes and faces him. "Are you mad?" she asks sheepishly.

Jonathon smiles. "Dear sister, why would I be mad when you just said what I've been trying to get you to see for the past six months." He kisses her with a loving caress and says against her lips, "But sadly I have to leave now, I'll only be gone a day or two."

Clary whimpers sadly, when she just got him back he leaves again but Jonathon moves to her neck and sucks on her sensitive skin.

"When are you going to stop giving me hickeys Jonathon?" Clary whispers.

"Think of it as a goodbye present," he says against her neck.

"You're only leaving for two days."

"Two agonizingly long days, where I have to deal with the incompetence of our followers without my angel warming my bed."

Clary laughs a little as he pulls away. She touches where Jonathon had just been and can feel the colorful welt that will rise later today from Jonathon's demanding lips.

Jonathon looks at her for a long moment before saying, "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she says, "Go deal with our incompetent followers."

With a final kiss, Jonathon walks into their bedroom and retrieves his bag, still full from when he came home last night.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says and is gone. Leaving Clary standing in the hall watching her brother disappear round the corner.

Jonathon feels amazing. His little sister had finally admitted that she belonged with him, had always belonged with him. He takes out his stele, his old one now Clary's, and draws the disabling rune for the force field surrounding the house. He'd widened it to an acre of lawn space ever since Valentine was sent back to hell. He and Clary had chased each other around the grass a few days ago.

He steps outside the force field as it goes back up. Concealing the house with his darling angel. A jeep waits on the coastline road for him, ready to take him to the battle. He jumps in throwing his gear in the back. Jonathon's mansion sits on the coast of Lake Geneva on the border of Switzerland or really the border of Idris. He can't believe that when this all started the Shadowhunters never found him. That just shows how pathetic they are.

The battle Jonathon is driving to is just outside the Glass City and he heard Jace was going to be there with the sniveling Lightwoods, that gay warlock and a bunch of rebel Nephilim. Clary had all but forgotten about the surprise he had in store for her. He had just needed time to coordinate where that surprise would be so he can drag it back to the mansion.

Last night when Jonathon had staggered back to the mansion, he had been on a blood high. His demon was raging around him; it was demanding it claim his angel, long and hard. He had heard her calm heartbeat all the way from the door since his senses were high. Jonathon just managed to restrain himself enough to knock on the door to their bedroom. When his little sister had opened it, he almost tackled her then and there. Her always present golden aura was shining brightly and he could see little wisps of his black aura reach out to hers trying to entangle themselves with hers.

His body had been shaking and he had wanted her _so badly_. Before he took her he had asked her, practically begged her. He didn't want to hurt his angel, he didn't want her to not know what she was getting into but when she opened her arms to him relief and hormones had crashed through his body. He had quickly picked her up torn off all her clothes on the way to the bed and thrown her down on the plush comforter.

Then he ripped off his clothes and took no time with foreplay, he immediately plunged into her, ripping his nails down her back. She had screamed and returned his scratches with ones of her own. That had only spurred him on, making him go harder and faster until he had reached his peak and screamed out his little sister's name. She came right along with him gripping his hips so hard she had left bruises. Just like the ones he left on her. He had not held back his demon that night; he had let it take control of him and in turn his sister. He had been ashamed when she woke and winced at the marks he had left on her. He had been disgusted with himself that after years of discipline he had let it slip and had almost hurt her.

Though when she had claimed that she loved every part of him he had almost taken her again, he loved her so much for letting those words fall from her lips. Then when she had stepped into the shower with him. He had stared, marveling at his sister with white suds running down her perfect body, watching the red blood stain the white bubbles and fall away from her as the water ran down her.

Jonathon hadn't realized he was staring until she pointed it out on her way out of the shower. Jonathon had quickly finished his shower but when he walked out into the room to see a flash of red and hear her call, "Come and find me," his blood had boiled with anticipation. Throwing clothes haphazardly on himself, he had rushed after her.

He loved the games she played with him now. He loved especially when she made prey of herself. He loved the hunt, the exhilaration and high-pitched squeal of laughter and surprise when he caught her. He thought he had her in the garden but she had been hiding in a tree and he had missed it! She slipped out and if she hadn't knocked on the door he wouldn't have noticed.

Then when she went to the training room, he couldn't see her anywhere. She flicked his ear just to taunt him. He was utterly confused because not even he could move that fast but then he had realized that she had his stele and made a powerful glamour. He could only identify her by her voice because she had applied a soundless rune. He had also felt her with his body, her body heat, her taking up the space of the training room, however slight.

He had heard her heart pick up when she told him to focus. He had sensed her stop moving then and zeroed on on her voice, pouncing. He had been utterly confused when the glamour broke to reveal his sister and he saw tears streaking her pale face.

Though Jonathon loved seeing his sister finally happy his demon kept pushing to her struggle. So just this once Jonathon is going to see her struggle. Some part of him takes pleasure in his sister's pain, knowing it's nothing compared to what he's been through.

Looking down he sees his pants strain in his crotch area. He silently curses and pushes away the thoughts of his sister and what he's going to do to her once he gets home. The open aired jeep lets the fresh lake air whip through his white blond hair.

After half a day or so of driving, he pulls up next to one of the old Shadowhunter manors, now being used as a war base. If he remembers correctly this is the Lightwood manor. He grins to himself as he swings out of the jeep. They're going to battle, not that it will be long, with the Lightwoods and they're using their house as their base.

Jonathon strides through the entry doors and into the library where all his demon Shadowhunters are. They're deep in conversation, huddled over a map.

Jonathon clears his throat and several of them jump, spinning around to see their master and commander standing in the doorway. Tall, menacing and ready for battle.

"How close are they?" Jonathon asks shortly, assuming the commanding, intimidating air his father taught him.

"They're sitting just a mile from the house sir," says a tall stocky man with black hair peppered with gray.

Good, Jonathon thinks to himself. "Suit up, we leave in five minutes. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" They all call in unison and hustle out to grab the rest of the gear they don't already have on.

Jonathon strides back out to stand in the rolling green hills outside the manor. He throws on his gear from his bag. He can see the others' camp. Little black dots on the horizon. Jonathon had lied when he said he could only be back tomorrow, he could be back tonight if he wanted but he should stay and organize the after math. This battle won't take more than an hour, they barely have anyone there.

The demon Shadowhunters line up behind Jonathon. He turns and addresses the battalion of his followers. Ten to one, he thinks.

"No one touches my brother! Take as many of the Shadowhunters as possible captive! I don't care if you wound them! Do what you will with the Downworlders except the Daylighter, take him captive! Understood!"

He hears a roar of ascent. He looks back to see the enemy has lined up on the field. He grins, his blood already pumping and then calls, "Charge!"

Both sides rush forward unbelievably fast. This is one of the last remaining rebellion groups. Jonathon immediately clashes with an unfamiliar Shadwohunter who he knocks on the head hard enough to warrant a two-day nap. Then a werewolf rushes up to him who he stabs through the gut, hot blood spraying across his arm.

He looks around for the angel boy. Not ten minutes into the battle and they have practically won. There, his black eyes spot the golden blond as he takes out one of his demon Shadowhunters with a blade to the throat. While angel boy is distracted, Jonathon circles behind him, easily clocking out a few more Shadowhunters.

Angel boy is obviously too occupied with one of Jonathon's Shadowhunters to notice him but as he gets closer the demon Shoadowhunter's eyes flick to him and Jace spins around. Stupid man, he spoiled his fun.

His eyes flare in anger as he quickly cleaves through the other Shadowhunter's gear, felling him and bringing up his blade to meet Jonathon's.

"Where's Clary, you filthy bastard?" he yells as Jonathon throws Jace's blade back and lunges forward to drive it into his shoulder. Jace dodges easily and they circle each other like lions.

"Thought you would have given up by now. You haven't found her yet," Jonathon says with taunting.

Jace lunges again but only manages to graze Jonathon's torso. Jonathon's blade arches down toward Jace's outstretched arm. He pulls back just as the blade bites into his skin.

"Never!" Jace snarls. Jonathon lunges again, this time feigning right faster than Jace can move and runs the blade into his right shoulder. Jace yells in pain as he clutches the wound. Jonathon takes the opportunity to hook his ankle around the back of Jace's. Jace sprawls backward landing on his back, causing him to yell again as his injured shoulder slams onto the dirt.

Jonathon sits on Jace, smiling an evil grin as he raises his blade. Jace's eyes go wide as he struggles underneath Jonathon. Jonathon is stronger and holds him in place.

"No Lightwood bitch to help you now," he growls and brings the blade down. Jace thinks he's trying to kill him but just before he makes contact, he shifts his hand so the handle of his blade slams into Jace's temple knocking him out cold.

Jonathon stands up from his unconscious brother's body and surveys the battlefield. Multiple bodies of dead or injured werewolves. Pity. Lots of either unconscious, restrained or dead Shadowhunters litter the battlefield. Empty save the spare duel here and there, which are quickly ended as his superior Shadowhunters over take them.

Jonathon smiles to himself as he drags his brother's body back to the jeep. Throwing his brother's body in the back, he calls one of his lieutenants over. He salutes Jonathon and stands straight.

"I want the Lightwoods locked in heavy duty cells along with the Daylighter and Magnus Bane if he's still alive. The rest you can disperse through the Gard dungeons. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant salutes then runs off to carry out his order.

Jonathon looks over at his brother, crumpled in the backseat. "I guess I should tie you up."

Jonathon hauls Jace's body into the manor and yells at the rushing soldiers for a stele. Jonathon expertly draws a binding rune on Jace's wrists and ankles then a rune of quietude and blindness, a new one Clary made a month or so ago. He doesn't bother drawing an_ iratze_ because he wants to leave Jace bloodied.

Jonathon has to stay here for a while to help organize the chaos and deal with the new prisoners. Jonathon sighs as he leaves Jace in a bolted cell in the basement for the next hour to attend the war effects. Jonathon can't wait to get back to his angel, can't wait to see the look on her face.

The demon inside of him hums with malice and glee as he thinks about how Clary will react but something new taints his demon. Guilt? Is that actually guilt? No, it can't be. Jonathon quickly brushes it aside and walks back to the waiting captive Shadowhunters.


	14. Jonathon's Surprise

_**This chapter was painful for me to write. I literally had to stop every paragraph and fangirl over all the devoius feels I threw in here. I'm glad that I have finally posted it though. Now things are going to go all to hell. (Let's hope we don't see Valentine :))**_

Jonathon walks thorough the Gard cells, examining each cells contents. He demanded when they had taken the Gard over an hour ago that the cells be emptied of everyone except for the Shadowhunters who had committed theft or murder. He'd deal with them later.

Once the cells were emptied the demon Shadowhunters had dragged the captives here and deposited them each in a separate cell. He passes a cell with a tall black haired girl, trembling in the corner and vaguely recognizes her from when he was pretending to be Sebastian Verlac.

He makes his way down to the armored cells, specially made for Downworlders and particularly ruthless Shadowhunters who had broken the Law. He's just come down to make sure they were locked up properly, don't want them getting out.

He stops in front of the first solid metal door and slides open the metal plate to look in the cell. He sees that Lightwood bitch that cut off his hand with her stupid whip. When she had woken up she had put up such a fight that the guards had to put an immobility rune on her and restrain her against the wall in chains.

He grins and slides the plate shut as she looks up. The next plate he slides open he sees her brother, pacing the cell. He looks up when he hears the plate slide open and rushes over to it, snarling, "Where's my sister?"

"Safe… for now," Jonathon says with an evil grin then slams the plate shut as he starts to yell obscenities. The next cell holds the Daylighter. Before they had brought him in, the guards had to carve as many Jewish religious symbols into the stone of the cell as possible. They had dumped him on the cot unconscious and he still lies there, haphazardly tossed onto the worn cot.

The next two cells have the Lightwood parents, both sitting on their cots with their heads hung low and shoulders hunched. He is disgusted by their morbidity, he wouldn't be sitting on his cot in shame he would be thinking of how to get out. Not that he has ever been caught before.

Magnus Bane had surrendered and changed his allegiance once the battle was over. Which was fine with Jonathon, the warlock seems to have a sour disposition against Shadowhunters nowadays. He had seen this new opportunity as good because Jonathon was ushering in a reign of equality between Downworlders and Shadowhunters and the warlock had seen it.

So the warlock is now somewhere in the Glass City, enjoying some girly fruit drink probably and shopping for sequined shoes. His mother had already been captured long before this battle and he can't decide what to do with her. Clary would hate him if he killed her but he held absolutely no affection for her either. She's been rotting in a cell for about a three month.

Jonathon shrug his shoulders, he'll figure that out later. He ascends the dungeon stairs into the main level of the Gard into the throne room, or soon to be throne room anyway. Once Jonathon settles down and the war has calmed, he's going to seat two thrones on the dais where he and his angel will preside over the Shadowhunters as king and queen.

He needs to get back to the Lightwood manor, now. He left Jace there completely disabled and under lock and key. He walks past a few of the demon Shadowhunters who bow. Jonathon smirks, he's going to get used to this.

Descending the steps of the Gard he weaves his way through the Glass City, now being run by him and his followers. Jonathon decides to wait a while before telling Clary the Shadowhunters have been dominated. He likes the seclusion they have now on the border.

Jonathon had to leave the jeep left on the outskirts of the city because cars and trucks don't work within the boundaries of Alicante. He strides through the cobblestone streets, which are nearly deserted save a few Shadowhunters and Downworlders. After a few minutes he reaches the boundaries. It will probably take him two hours to drive to the Lightwood manor and then another half day to reach his manor.

He should reach his angel by late afternoon. A tad earlier than when he said he'd come home. He hops in the jeep and starts the engine. This is the only jeep in Idris, specially made for him since horseback would take too long to get from the manor to the Glass City. It is made with runes engraved into the engine and wheels making it silent, quick and so it doesn't leave any footprint in the ground.

He turns toward the Lightwood manor and lets his mind wander as the wind whips across his face.

Clary had trained most of the day after Jonathon left. The maids had come back from their day off and when they had seen the bedroom their mouths had dropped in shock. They looked at her fleetingly, wondering what her and the Master did last night but only for a moment knowing they had no right to intrude in their Mistress's business.

After training Clary had returned to the room, drenched in sweat in her sports bra and shorts. She saw the maids had replaced the beige sheets for black Egyptian cotton and a gray comforter.

She walked into the bathroom and peeled off her clothes. She stepped under the cold spray of water and scrubbed the sweat and grime off her body, drawing a crude rolling hill landscape in the fogged glass.

She stepped out and toweled herself off, slipping into some jeans and a loose blouse. She decided to stroll through the manor just to chat with the servants and maids, who were mundanes with the Sight. She enjoyed talking to them, they were a change of pace from Jonathon's always cunning and seductive mood.

She met with one blonde maid in the library, she wasn't much taller than Clary and she had bright blue eyes. She was dusting off books when Clary strolled in. She startled the young maid whose name was Catalyn. She was one of Clary's favorites, she always felt she could talk about all her girl problems with her and Catalyn wasn't too scared to ask questions like most of the others.

"Hey Catalyn," Clary had said, sitting down in one of the plush chairs. The maid startled, almost dropping her duster and spun around. She broke into a grin and curtsied, "Hello Mistress," she said rising from her curtsy. She had a wide grin on her face and a dirty look in her eyes. "So… I changed your sheets this morning," she said.

Clary raised an eyebrow. "Did you now?"

Catalyn nodded and continued. "If I may ask. What did you and the Master do to ruin a set of perfectly good sheets with blood?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Clary said and started giggling, Catalyn joining in.

They had laughed and talked for a while before Clary left and went to snag some dinner out of the kitchens. Jonathon had found out she was eating directly from the kitchens and not letting the chefs cook for her, he wasn't too happy about it but she had brushed it off.

After eating a dinner of pasta and alfredo with grilled chicken she had lazily wandered back to the bedroom and fallen asleep, sprawled on the bed.

When she wakes up she hears a commotion outside in the halls. It sounds like cheering or maybe screams along with thumps, she can't tell what it is. She rises from the bed and flings open the door, glaring at the interruption of her sleep and squinting against the light.

She sees a few maids freeze in the hallway and she can't tell what their previous expressions were. They curtsy quickly, slightly scared at what the glaring Mistress might do. It's not like she'll do anything that Jonathon would have but she has still demonstrated discipline around them.

"What's with the noise," she asks lightly, letting the maids relax.

"Master Jonathon forbade us to say. He said it was a surprise, Mistress," one of the black haired maids says quietly.

Clary perked up at the mention of Jonathon's name, an opposite reaction to what it once was. "He's here?"

"No he just sent a message ahead. It said he'll be here in ten minutes," said the other brunette.

Jonathon said he'd be back tonight. "What time is it?" Clary snapped a little harshly.

The maids flinched, they must be new, and answered shyly, "Almost two pm, Mistress Clarissa."

"Thank you," she says with a wave of her hand, dismissing the maids to scurry off down the hall. How did she sleep that long? She must have gotten to bed at three to have slept that long. If Jonathon was arriving in ten minutes, he's early. Clary feels a little flutter of joy, even if she doesn't want to admit it, she's missed her brother and likes waking up with him every morning.

She walks into the closet, dons a fresh pair of jeans and walks out into the hallway. To take up the ten minutes, because she hates waiting, she decides to go back to the library and read. She picks up a copy of the Gray Book and reviews her runes, tracing new ones that come to mind as she scans over the uses.

Wrapped up in the book she is startled when she hears a loud thump and crash. Confused she slams the book shut and stands abruptly, striding out the door and down the hall to the entry way. She quickens her pace as she hears another crash and basically crashes herself into the entry way.

The first thing she sees is Jonathon yelling after someone. He stands in the open doorway. He catches sight of her and he smiles widely. He starts toward her but Clary puts a hand out to stop him. His smile drops from his face and is replaced with confusion. He knits his brow and cocks his head.

"Angel?" Jonathon asks with curiosity.

"What was that?" Clary asks glancing down the corridor Jonathon had yelled down.

"Your surprise."

"What was the big crash?" Clary asks, flicking her gaze back to Jonathon.

Jonathon doesn't answer and when he fails to do so she ducks away from him and starts down the corridor, the on that leads to the dungeon. She hears Jonathon behind her and runs now knowing Jonathon is going to stop her. She passes two male servants that are quite bulky and muscled. One has a black eye and the other cradles his arm against his chest.

Further bewildered she races to the door they had come out of. Just before she opens the door Jonathon slams her up against it.

"What are you doing?" Jonathon asks, staring her down. His voice holds confusion and slight irritation but he's not mad.

Clary stares right back, "Finding out the surprise that took two guards to drag down here." Clary snakes her arm behind her, searching for the latch. Jonathon starts to respond but Clary finds the latch and releases it. She and Jonathon fall back into the cell. They both keep their footing and Clary pulls away from Jonathon, spinning around to scan the room.

When her eyes land on the chained, golden haired boy she screams. Pain, anger, regret, guilt and relief all bombard her mind as she stares into the desperate golden eyes. Trying to muffle it with her hand she falls back against the wall. Tears spill down her face as she looks into Jace's golden eyes.

"How could you bring him here? How dare you!" Clary starts to yelling at Jonathon through the tears.

"Clary?" Jace says. He's staring at her wide eyed. His voice rips her heart apart. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to stay with Jonathon and not have to confront Jace with the terrible things she's done.

Clary spins on Jonathon, her terror now consumed with rage.

"Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern! I trusted you! I gave you my love and this is how you repay me? Do you think this is some game? I chose to stay here with you and you decide to drag my ex here and torture him!"

The look on Jonathon's face is pure shock. "Clary, I…" Jonathon begins.

"No," Clary holds up her hand Jonathon to stop. "What possible excuse could you give me? What possible reason could you have for me that could warrant this? I'm supposed to help you Jonathon. I'm supposed to balance you but how can I do that if you won't let me. You keep pushing me away. I thought I could help you, I really did but now I know I can't. There is no saving you Jonathon Morgenstern!"

Clary doesn't let any tears come in front of Jonathon. All she feels now is is pure anger, pure hatred. Her eyes hold fire that burns everything in their wake and she looks directly at Jonathon. Jonathon's face holds no emotion but she's been here long enough to know her words have broken him. She doesn't care. "Now get out, you manipulative, selfish, devious, conniving, bastard! Get out! And give me the keys, _now!_"

Clary holds out one hand and points toward the door with the other. Jonathon casts his eyes down, pulling the old heavy key from his pocket, placing it in her hand and slipping out the door. Out the door Clary slams it behind Jonathon and leans her head on it. She hears the lock engage and knows that Jonathon knows, despite her anger, that Clary will let Jace loose but Jonathon's locked the door so they can't get out. She's locked in here with Jace, her betrayed angel. Her golden lion. She tries to calm her breathing, taking deep breaths until she hears a raspy voice.

"Clary?"

She spins around to look at Jace; she almost forgot he was there.

"Jace," Clary breaths. She runs over to his chained, kneeling body and crouches in front of him. She runs a trembling hand over his bruised face as she unlocks the cuffs around his wrists. "Jace," she whispers.

"Clary, how could you?" Jace says in a broken voice, enveloping her in a tight desperate hug.

Clary doesn't understand. If he knows, why is he hugging her? He can't possibly have forgiven her for it. How could he know? Those are the exact words he used in her dreams, her recurring nightmares that she never dared mention to Jonathon or anyone else.

"Jace I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry." She lets her hands fall in her lap and casts her eyes down.

He brings his hands up and cups Clary's face. "Clary, you have nothing to be sorry for. I was asking how could you survive all this time with Sebastian."

"Jace, I can't tell you the things I've had to do," Clary whimpers. He doesn't know then, and she doesn't have the courage to tell him. She's already seen anger, betrayal, pain, and sorrow flash through his golden eyes in her dreams and isn't ready to face them now.

Jace tilts her chin up to look at him, Clary doesn't expect to find compassion and worry in those gold disks but she does. "Yes, you can. You know you can because I love and I will never leave you no matter what you did," Jace says soothingly, drawing Clary close to him and she wraps her arms around his chest, letting heavy tears fall. She can't tell him though and he has to leave her because she doesn't deserve him anymore, she can't stay with her brother anymore either, there is no redemption for Jonathon, not anymore. She's been left all alone in this world and it's all because of her actions, it's _her_ fault. Not Jace's or Jonathon's, hers.

"Please Clary, you can tell me. I'm just glad you're alive but I need to know what Sebastian's done to you." He says Sebastian's name like a curse.

_He raped me, then I had sex with him. I loved him, I agreed to stay with him, I helped plan the war that got you captured and probably hundreds of others killed. And now I have nowhere to go._ Clary shakes her head against Jace's chest, tremors shaking her body. Jace will never forgive her, not after six months of having to live with her brother. Not after giving herself fully to Jonathon. She was supposed to forget about Jace, forget how she betrayed him, forget that she was nothing to him. But how can she do that when she is sitting in his arms once again, as she dreamt about the first few weeks here. Having his strong comforting arms enclosed around her delicate body.

After Clary's silence draws out Jace sighs and sits on the ground, pulling Clary into his lap. He strokes her hair and changes the subject, trying to get her to talk. Clary's face is still pressed against his chest. "You were pretty bad ass, you know, yelling at Sebastian like that. Did you see the look on his face? He was scared white," he says disbelievingly.

Clary laughs a little through the tears. "He doesn't usually expect me to fight back like that," Clary says quietly, tears still dripping down her face.

"Well he doesn't know you like I do. My little redhead always fights back," Jace says then lets the conversation drift into silence before speaking again. "May I ask you something?"

"I guess," Clary mumbles against his chest, dreading what that question might be.

"How did Sebastian take you? That morning I woke up and you were gone, Isabelle said that you let around dawn but didn't tell her where you were going. I was enraged at her, I even yelled at her because she shouldn't have let you go out alone with Sebastian still trying to hunt you down. She said you would be fine but I guess I was right," Jace says, his eyes going blank, returning to that pain filled morning.

"I had gone down into Central Park for a walk. I wanted to clear my head. The park was deserted, just the way I'd expect it to be at dawn and then I got this feeling that I was being followed. I brushed it off but then ended up running head first into Sebastian," she says, reverting back to her brother's other name not wanting to draw attention as to why she calls him Jonathon. "He bound my hands with some kind of enchanted rope that burned like fire every time I moved. Then he threw me over his shoulder and I managed to knee his face but he didn't really react. He threw me in the back of a jeep and followed me in…"

"Wait, if he got in the back of the jeep with you who was driving?" Jace asks.

Clary tenses up, her muscles going rigid at the memory of white blond hair sitting in the driver's seat. She clutches Jace's shirt. "By the Angel Jace, you don't know how horrible it was seeing him again.

Jace pulls back and looks into Clary's pained face with concern. "See who again?"

"Valentine," she whispers.

The color from Jace's face drains, leaving his golden skin pale and clammy. "He's alive?" Jace asks voice barely a whisper.

"Not anymore," she says and earns a bemused look from Jace then adds, "Lilith sent him back to hell."

Jace seems to relax but his look of confusion stays plastered on his face. "Do I want to know?"

"Not really, maybe I'll tell you about it someday if I feel like reliving that particular nightmare," Clary says. She's quickly been readjusted to Jace's presence in front of her, whereas earlier it felt strange and alien. It's quicker than she would have thought; maybe her body has always felt Jace's absence and was eager to fill it the second he came back.

The conversation lapses into silence yet again, and Clary is afraid to talk at all about her first weeks here. So Jace takes the opportunity to ask again," Will you please tell me what Sebastian did? I want to know how painful his death should be once I get out of here."

"Jace, I can't…"

"Yes you can, Clary please. I can see something in your eyes that's weighing on you it's crushing you. Please let me help you, no matter what you had to do I know you did to keep yourself from getting hurt," Jace says, his voice that of one who is talking to an injured animal, trying to coax it out of hiding.

For a moment, Clary believes that he can forgive her. Maybe she did allow Jonathon to take her to protect herself. Jonathon would have done much worse than what he's done if she had refused. She takes a deep breath and says in the smallest, quietest voice she's ever spoken with in her life, "He had sex with me."

Before Jace can react, she stands up from his lap and faces away from Jace and his undoubtedly disgusted eyes. She wraps her arms around herself in shame, bowing her head to look at the floor.

"He… WHAT?" Jace practically screams.

Clary flinches away from the sound of his enraged voice, unsure who is anger is directed at, her probably for letting it happen.

"You heard me Jace, don't make me say it again," Clary says, her voice mousey.

Jace grabs Clary's shoulders and spins her around. She yelps at the contact and seeing the burning hatred in his eyes terrifies her but there is sympathy churning along with his anger.

"Listen to me very closely Clary, he will die for this. He violated you in ways I can't imagine and for that, I am deeply and truly sorry for not finding you earlier. I can't express how sorry I am Clary," Jace says in a deathly calm tone. Clary's eyes widen as he pulls her into a bone-crushing hug, he holds her like she is the last good thing on the planet. But she's not good, she let Jonathon have sex with her and she even enjoyed it sometimes.

He finally pulls back and holds her at half an arm's length, his gold eyes searching her face. "That's not all is it?" Jace asks.

Damn, he's good. Why does he have to be so perceptive, so good at reading her? Clary shakes her head.

"What else did he do Clary?" His voice scares her a little, the tone climbing dangerously into something menacing and black.

She bites her lip, scared how Jace is going to react but his eyes bore into her, she knows he'll figure it out eventually. She absently touches her collarbone and hisses in pain. The brand. She had grown so used to the pain she forgot about it. Now Jace catches her wrist and pulls it away from her collarbone.

The golden fire in his eyes erupts as he tugs down the collar of her shirt and stares at the three letters carved into her skin. Then impossibly grows as he catches sight of the unfamiliar rune on her opposite collarbone.

"Clary what are these?" Surprisingly Jace's voice is normal but his eyes and body betray his anger and hatred. She doesn't answer; instead, she casts her eyes downward. Jace grabs her chin, gently though, and brings her face up, forcing her to look at him. "Clary, what are these?"

"Jonathon marked me with demon metal. I was resisting and he decided that I needed a physical reminder of who I belong to so he carved his initials into my skin," Clary says, ashamed of the permanent mark Jonathon gave her.

"And this?" Jace lightly touches the _beati _rune.

"Jonathon put it on me the day he brought me here. It was supposed to make it easier for him to manipulate me. It's a _beati_. I don't know where he got it, but I certainly didn't make it," she says slowly.

"He put a pleasure rune on you!" Jace says, his voice rising once again.

"How do you know what it is?" Clary asks confused.

"It used to be in the Book of Gray but the Clave banned it because it was always used zealously and never really had any purpose in Shadowhunting. I'd heard of it but have never seen one before."

Jace knows about it. Maybe he knows if it's permanent or not. "Is it permanent?" she asks energetically.

"It shouldn't be but in my studies it said that you can change the length of duration depending on how long you wanted that person… pleasured. A lot of Shadowhunters used it in… well sex because it gave them such a high so they would change the duration depending on how they would, you know, do it." Jace says all this hesitantly.

This just brings a whole new wave of disgust to wash over Clary. She definitely hates her brother. She also can't believe that Jace doesn't blame her. Isn't completely disgusted with her, she feels relief from all the guilt that had settled on her that first night. She doesn't deserve Jace though, she has practically consorted with the devil and she can't ever forgive herself.

"Can we not talk about the rest please?" Clary asks.

"There's more?" Jace asks, seemingly unsurprised but asking the question anyways.

Clary nods. She sees a tidal wave of anger and sorrow roll across Jace's eyes but he just takes her hand and draws her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. He draws her into a kiss. Angel, she hasn't kissed Jace in so long and it feels wonderful even though she knows she shouldn't be letting him kiss her. His soft lips touch hers with warmth and caring, a simple kiss that brings back the months she met him and everything leading up to her kidnapping. She can't help herself; she pushes herself against Jace and wraps her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He felt so safe and strong and she reveled in it.

After a while, Clary finally pulls away. "I'm just glad I have you back," Jace says.

This tears Clary's heart because she knows she can never really give herself back to Jace but she doesn't say anything. They both sit back down on the smooth stone floor of the cell and Jace starts telling her what has been happening outside this prison of a manor.

Death and blood have reaped the Shadowhunters. The battle Jonathon caught Jace in was the last one there were no more rebels. The rest of the Shadowhunters had surrendered and Jonathon now has control of Alicante and the Clave. Clary's mother had been captured a few months ago and Jace thinks that she is probably dead. She couldn't have survived three months in a cell of Jonathon's camps.

Clary whimpers at that and Jace pulls her close, lying down with her as she cries for the loss of her mother. Jace strokes hair and whispers things in her ear that she doesn't hear. Eventually she falls asleep in her golden lion's arms in the dark, lightless prison cell, dreading the morning that Jonathon will soon come to retrieve her.

_**Here are some lovely, heart wrenching feels for you. I though I would throw the love triangle back in and actually have it be a love triangel where Clary actually had some affection for her brother. Plus I just wanted to see how the Clabastian/Clonathon shippers would react. hate me all you want I am sitting here grinning my ass off. Enjoy!**_


	15. Demon's Path

_**Okay guys, this is rated M for a reason. I was in a really smutty mood so this is a really smutty chapter. I'm talking like elbow deep in smut. There are some crucial explanations in this chapter too though but be forewarned, it's **__**DIRTY**__**. I just flet like this had to happen once, so I experimented. Judge me all you want. I bet you dollars to donuts the Clabastian shippers will be appalled that I did this, especially if Jonathon is going to kill Jace, but oh well. This is also the climax of the story where the whole... well everything starts to get sorted out. The next couple chapters is Jonathon and Clary getting settled in the Gard and assuming their places of power. Can't wait to see how that turns out. Anyway, try to enjoy the chapter and I understand if it's too dirty but oh well. :)**_

Jace watches the shadows shift on the dark ceiling. Clary breathes lightly beside him, occasionally rolling over but always returning to grasp his shirt. He loves her desperately; the six months they were apart were torturous without her. He was going to kill Sebastian or die trying before he laid another harmful finger on her.

He watches the shadows swirl, his night vision not quite letting him make pictures out of the darkness. It must be sometime close to one or two in the morning and he can't help but wonder why Sebastian brought him here and left the others to rot in cells somewhere, but at least he knows they're alive. Clary lets out a whimper and her face contorts in soft pain, she grips his shirt tightly until her face settles back to a peaceful expression. Whatever Sebastian did to her must've been terrible. He could see in her eyes that she didn't reveal all that had happened. He could see the pain and humility in her glowing green emeralds.

When Clary had whispered what Sebastian had done to her she had withdrawn from him. He had spun her around to see her beautiful green eyes appear as though there was a crack running through them. His heart had broken when he saw the pain in her eyes. He knows that Sebastian did worse, he knows but Clary seems too ashamed and broken to reveal whatever horrible thing Sebastian did to her.

Jace's muscles tense when he hears the lock click on the door. He gently sets Clary down on the smooth floor and stands, placing himself between her and the door. The door slowly, soundlessly falls open to frame Sebastian. Jace could see the hatred boiling in his eyes, his posture is rigid and his face is set in a hard mask. The mask softens when his eyes land on Clary's sleeping form.

Jace moves to block his view of her, drawing Sebastian's black, hateful eyes back to Jace. "What do you want?" Jace snaps, though quietly not wanting to wake Clary.

"I want to take _my _sister back to our room, so she can sleep on something other than hard stone," Sebastian says, equally as quiet.

Jace bristles when Sebastian says 'our room.' He's disgusted; he forces Clary to sleep in the same room as him, probably even the same bed. His attention catches also on another detail. When Jace had woken up in the cell at the Lightwood manor he had panicked, not being able to see or move or speak but he had heard, after some time, Sebastian come into the cell and say, "Time to see our sister." At the time Sebastian still thought of Jace as a brother but clearly Clary's words with Jace earlier had all but revoked those affections, no matter how twisted. Jace knew Sebastian had been outside the cell door the entire time Clary was explaining everything to Jace.

Jace is now expendable in Sebastian's eyes but he doesn't care as long as he can get Clary away from this monster. Sebastian has a point though; Jace doesn't want Clary sleeping on the cold, hard stone the entire night. Jace reluctantly steps back from Clary, holding his hands out to show he won't attack.

Sebastian strides into the cell and scoops up his sister, who stirs slightly, murmuring 'Jace' but doesn't wake. Sebastian's face contorts in something like anger and jealously, Jace takes the opportunity to smirk. Sebastian just glares and quickly exits the cell, quietly closing and locking the door. Jace has to do something, no matter how reckless or how dangerous; Jace has to help Clary get away from her monster of a brother. And it's probably going to be the last thing he does.

Jonathon quietly carries his sister down the dungeon corridor and out into the main hall. She stirs lightly, shifting in his grasp but just curls her bare toes against the cold of the hall and buries her head into Jonathon's chest.

When Clary had burst into the cell, Jonathon knew it was a mistake to bring angel boy here. He had meant to get Jace to join them but now he knows that will never happen, not after what Clary told him what he's done to her. Jonathon can never have a brother again. No matter, a sister is enough. Clary had yelled at him, furiously, calling him a string of harsh names but none of that affected Jonathon; it was her last words that echo through his head even now. '_There is no saving you Jonathon Morgenstern!'_

These words coming from his angel, the one who was supposed to save him from himself did not believe he could be saved. This had cut him so deeply he wondered if he was internally bleeding, his angel's seraphic blade gouging out his heart. No, she couldn't have meant them; he had seen something in her eyes that refuted her words, harsh as they may have been.

Once Jonathon had been kicked out of the cell, he had leaned against the wall next to the door and listened with his demon senses to the conversation being exchanged between his angel and angel boy. His anger had risen along with Jace's once Clary revealed that Jonathon had had sex with Clary. Jace had no right to be angry, as if he didn't know this was coming, that it was destined. Jonathon had taken what was his and rightfully, only he would be allowed to claim his angel's innocence.

Jonathon reaches their room and quietly pushes open the door. He strides quickly across the room and places his sister down on the bed, under the plush covers. He slides in after her and slides an arm around her bared waist. Angel boy isn't going to survive the week if he keeps pulling Clary away from him. His arm tightens around Clary's waist, making her groan slightly and pull away from the pressure, rolling right into Jonathon. She stretches out her hand across his chest as if searching for something. Her fingers curl on Jonathon's side and slumbering Clary's face contorts slightly in confusion.

"Jonathon?" she whispers. She starts to shift uncomfortably.

"Shh," he soothes, brushing back her hair and kissing her forehead. She settles after a moment and curls up against Jonathon. _This is where she should be_, Jonathon thinks with distaste as he recalls looking through the bars of the cell door to see Clary pressed up against Jace. He definitely wasn't surviving the next three _days_ let alone week; Jonathon just has to find a way to get rid of him without upsetting or alerting Clary.

He had hated how pain ridden she had looked in the cell, cracked green eyes, desperate, rage filled posture, clenched fists. Jonathon shies away from the image and replaces it with the serene red head next to him now. He's glad Valentine had him go undercover in Alicante. He finally got to meet the angel he'd heard all about. The rumors did her sparking green eyes no justice, nor her fiery red hair and delicate frame. He'd stood there awe struck, while the two drank each other in. The second she laid eyes on him he knew he looked familiar to her and he had reveled in the fact she didn't know who he was.

In two days once everything in the Glass City is organized Jonathon would bring his angel out of seclusion and have her rule as his queen, by his side and in his bed. He knows that she thinks she doesn't deserve Jace for the things she and him have done but it's quite the contrary. Jace doesn't deserve _her._ He could never push her like he can; never illuminate the angel inside Clary fully because of his own and Jonathon hated it. How he limited his sister, not allowing her to rise to her full glory but that will quickly be dealt with.

Jonathon briefly closes his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness for what seemed like seconds but when he opened his eyes again his angel was gone.

Clary woke up on something soft. Jace must have laid her on top of him, not wanting her to sleep on the floor but as she shifted the softness stretched beyond her reach and did not rise and fall with breathes. She opened her eyes and nearly screamed when she saw Jonathon lying next to her. This is not where she fell asleep, this is not where she wanted to wake up but she woke up in Jonathon's arms anyway.

He must have taken her in the middle of the night. She vaguely remembers the full deep black of sleep lighten slightly as she felt herself be moved. Now she knows it was Jonathon. Anger courses through her, quickly tampered by admiration as she lays eyes on Jonathon's sleeping face. She hates what he's done to her, what used to be anger and disgust toward her brother has now been replaced by a tenderness and love that she never would have thought Jonathon could seize from her, but he had and he isn't letting it go. She knows she can't be with Jace again but that doesn't mean she can't get him out. The murderous look Jonathon had shoot Jace last night spoke of bloody deaths and Clary is not going to sit by while her brother murders yet another innocent person. Especially one she still loves deeply. She can't help but still love Jace, it seems to her an impossibility but she can't ever let herself have him so she will have to push him away.

Clary quickly slips out of Jonathon's grasp, something she has become quite efficient at, and hastily pulls on some new jeans. Jonathon has gotten into the habit of removing them for her when she has collapsed of exhaustion after training. She grabs her stele and the key Jonathon had taken out of her pocket and dashes out the door. It is barely dawn so the servants won't be up to see her or tell their Master of what she is about to do.

She rushes down the halls and into the main foyer, quickly turning toward the dungeon. _What cell was he in? _ Clary thinks, panicking. The one smeared with blood, Jace had broken on of the servants arms yesterday in their effort to get him in chains and ended up smearing blood on the door. She quickly reaches the blood smeared door and shoves the key into the lock. Throwing open the door she sees Jace standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

"Clary, what are you…" Jace begins but Clary cuts him off with a warning look.

"You need to get out now. I can help you, if you don't I know for a fact Jonathon is going to kill you," Clary says and lets the rest of the statement speak through her eyes. _And I can't bear to lose you even though I already have._

Clary drags Jace out of the cell by his wrist. He doesn't resist until they reach the foyer. He abruptly stops and wrenches his wrist from her grasp then grips her shoulders painfully. He stares at her with his molten gold eyes, making her insides melt even though she shouldn't let them.

"Clary Fairchild, you listen to me. I either leave here with you or not at all," Jace says his voice strict and his words clipped, leaving no room for argument. Clary makes room.

"Jace, I can't leave. Jonathon will kill everyone I love and that includes you. You know I can't let that happen. _Please_, I'm begging you let me help you get out," Clary pleads but her face turns to horror as she hears her brother's voice boom through the foyer.

"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern! What do you think you're doing?"

Clary shrinks away from her brother; she knows what he's probably going to do. Even though she has accepted her place that doesn't mean Jonathon won't punish her. He has only ever used her full name once while she was here and that was when he and dragged her down to the dungeons and chained her up.

Clary hadn't heard it when he said it because her ears were ringing with anger but when she looked back at the memory she knows Jonathon yelled it from his room before storming over and breaking down the door. Why is she shrinking, she is supposed to balance him. She squares her shoulders just as Jace steps in front of her but she pushes him out of the way.

"I was breaking Jace out so you don't kill him," she says evenly.

Jace interrupts before Jonathon can respond, "No you're not."

Clary spins on Jace, fire in her eyes for both her Jonathon's. "Yes I am."

"No… you're not." Jace stares her down evenly.

"Jace Lightwood if you don't leave right now I will kick your ass out that door and through a Portal."

She rips open the front door and thrusts hand out only to have it crack against the force field, Jonathon must have shrunk it again. In frustration she pulls out her stele as the correct rune pops into her head. She sketches it on the force field and it shimmers purple then disappears. Clary thrusts her hand again and growls at Jace, "Get out."

He slams the door shut with one hand and Clary yelps as she pulls her hand back in. "No," Jace says calmly. His eyes flick behind her for one second then return to her but that is all she needs to spin around to find Jonathon looming over her. She quickly tries to avoid his hands but they catch her and sling her struggling body up onto his shoulder.

She kicks and screams as Jonathon glares down at Jace. "Can trust you not to break anything?"

Jace glares back. "No promises."

Jonathon scoffs and carries Clary back to their bedroom. He sets her down and plucks the stele out of her hand. "I'm revoking your stele privileges, your freedom to wander about the house and your ability to see Jace," Jonathon says, making sure the bedroom door is locked.

"What? You can't do that! I have rights," Clary yells.

Jonathon gives her a cold glare. "And when have we ever abided by stupid Mundie laws in this house or family?" Jonathon says menacingly. This time Clary shrinks back, he's going to do something. He's going to chain me in the dungeon again or whip me or worse put another restrictive rune on her.

"Sadly, never! But you think you can just waltz about and take away my freedom? I'm a person Jonathon, not a dog! You can't keep me from seeing Jace if I want, you can't keep me locked up in some room while you go out and play Risk with the world! I'm not your pet and you can't keep me from doing anything Jonathon! You can't…"

Before Clary has time to notice, Jonathon touches the stele to her neck and everything goes black.

Jonathon catches Clary as the sleep rune sinks into her skin and Clary drops to the floor. Swinging her up in his arms, he carries her over to the bed and gently lays her down on top of the covers. Jonathon gazes at Clary's sleeping face. She is not going to be happy when she wakes up. The rune should last for only for a few minutes but Jonathon couldn't take Clary yelling anymore, couldn't take the pain and anger he saw flashing across her face.

Jonathon hears a knock at his door and his face contorts in irritation. It's probably angel boy, he should go lock him back up before he can do anything but his display earlier proves that he won't be leaving without Clary. Jonathon isn't going to let Clary go; frankly he isn't going to let her out of his sight with angel boy roaming around.

Jonathon walks up to the door and flings it open then wedges his body in between the frame and door, blocking the view into the room. He was right; angel boy stands in the hallway glaring at Jonathon. Both boys' bodies are rigid and tense as if expecting a fight from the other.

"What?" Jonathon snaps nastily.

"I heard yelling and thought I'd come see what you were doing to her this time," Jace snaps back, just as harshly.

"She's fine. She's asleep. Now why don't you go run along back to your cell?"

"I wouldn't be in that cell if it wasn't for you!"

Jonathon is about to retort with a nasty insult but is shoved out of the way of the door by Clary. She slips through the door not even sparing either boy a second glance. Both boys stare after her in confusion, Clary never just walks past either of them, ever. As they stare after her, they can see Clary's drooping shoulders and somber posture. She walks down the hallway and Jonathon can practically feel the cold seeping out of her. She's mad at him and Jace but more so at him at the moment seeing as he put a sleeping rune on her and treated her like a child.

Both boys follow behind her, curious as to where she is going. Jonathon knows he should probably let Jace talk to her because Clary will just get madder if he tries to talk to her. He needs to distract her and even though he doesn't want to he knows what will. What Jonathon and Jace are going to do will scramble every single thought in Clary's head until she can't think straight. Clary slips through a door and into the garden, the boys follow. Clary sits down on a wood bench in the center of the garden while the boys hang back. Jonathon and Jace look at each other for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them and Jace seems to understand, only if slightly reluctant. Jace just nods and walks over to Clary while Jonathon hangs back and waits for when he needs to come in.

Clary can't help but feel the pull of aching depression. She knows Jonathon is going to kill Jace and Jace won't let her save him. That stupid, stubborn angel boy, why can't he just forget about her? Clary slips into the garden and sits on a slab of wood meant for a bench on the side of the lush greenery. She knows that the boys are following her but she doesn't care. She outs her head in her hands and lets the silent tears fall. She feels she's cried too much since she got here but she can't help it.

She feels someone crouch down in front of her. He gently takes her by the wrists and pulls her hands away from her face. Clary doesn't care to fight any more so she lets her wrists be drawn away and pressed between two strong, warm hands. She looks down at two golden disks staring at her with love and concern.

"Jace, I…" Clary doesn't get the chance to finish before Jace presses his lips against hers. Jace keeps her hands locked in between his so she can't pull away. Tears still wet her cheeks as Jace pulls her up to stand. Jace runs his hands up her body, skimming his fingertips along her skin, pushing up her shirt. Jace moves to her neck and someone grabs her chin, pulling her face towards him. Jonathon comes up behind Clary and kisses her while Jace works on her neck.

Clary can't think as Jonathon moves his mouth on hers and grabs her bare hips, turning her towards him. Jace doesn't falter as he moves to her shoulder and sucks on the skin there. Why is she in the garden? Wasn't she thinking about something important? Something to do with Jace. Something about Jace and Jonathon…

The thought is thrown out the window as Jonathon spins the ring on his hand and they're in the bedroom. Jonathon's hands move lower and grasp her rear, picking her up so she wraps her legs around his waist. Jace takes the moment to pull back and take off his shirt. He presses his warm chest to Clary's back and continues sucking on her neck. Jonathon rips off her shirt and discards it. He sets her down and Jace spins her around to kiss her while Jonathon quickly pulls off his own shirt and slowly rolls down Clary's pants. He kisses the backs of her thighs as he goes down. Jace wraps his arms around her torso and lifts her up so Jonathon can throw her pants across the room. Jonathon trails his hands along her thighs and Jace pulls away for Jonathon to spin Clary around.

He kisses her deeply while Jace pulls of his pants. Jonathon lies back on the bed with Clary on top of him. She needed to do something, what was it? She needed to help Jace. But why? He seems completely happy right now as he inches Clary's panties down her legs. She can't remember why she went to the garden in the first place. Jonathon unhooks her bra and fondles her while Jace enters her and she moans against Jonathon's mouth.

She had been mad at Jonathon. Why was she mad at Jonathon? He holds her so tenderly and roughly at the same time as he grips her sides. She runs a hand down his chest and into his pants, playing with him while Jace continues his ministrations. Jonathon's hands go down to the waistband of his jeans and he pulls them off. Waves of pleasure course through her, scattering her thoughts. She was going to do something… Jace pulls out of her and Jonathon stands briefly to switch places with Jace. Jace lies back on the bed now and Clary follows him as Jonathon continues to kiss her neck and shoulders. His hot breath blowing against her sweaty skin sending tingles through her.

How could she ever be mad at either of them? They both clearly love her. Jonathon shoves into her and she gasps against Jace who clutches her and gently kisses her. Clary opens her eyes for a moment to see Jace's tanned face under her. No, she knows she was mad at them; it's on the tip of her tongue. Jace steals it as he gently pushes his tongue into her mouth. Jonathon thrusts making her moan into Jace and he pulls her closer by wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest.

She's given up; she lets her thoughts fall away and buries her arms under Jace's back. She drags her nails down, creating new vertical scratches on his back. Jace moans and moves his mouth to her chest, gently sucking and nipping at her sensitive skin. She moves her hands up into his hair and tangles her fingers in his golden locks. Jonathon leans down on her, gripping her hips. Clary takes one hand form Jace's hair and runs it through Jonathon's white blond fluff. She grips the back of his neck and pulls his head down onto her shoulder where he trails chaste kisses along her shoulder blade.

Jace moves back to her mouth and Clary moans lustfully. Pleasure erupts in her stomach and she screams her release. She falls over her edge, Jace and Jonathon soon following. She buries her face in Jace's chest as Jonathon pulls out of her and flops down on the bed next to them. Clary rolls off Jace and falls onto the bed. She stares at the vaulted ceiling in shock. Six months ago she was a virgin and now… she can't even think of the word. She had been taught that it was dirty and shameful but it floats through her head as Jace and Jonathon lie panting on either side of her. _Threesome._ She cringes slightly and tries to collect her thoughts.

She closes her eyes briefly but when she opens them Jace and Jonathon are gone.

_**Please review for any opinions on the chapter or what you think I should do next. Thanks for reading! ;)**_


	16. He Had To

_**Took me freaking forever, kept procrastinating but I finally did it. Here it is enjoy! Stuff is finally starting to smooth over between Clary and Jonathon. For now. ;)**_

Clary sits up and stares around the dim room. She must have fallen asleep for a few hours for the sunlight to stream in so low. She slowly stands from the bed and winces as she feels her torso stretch uncomfortably. She sees four sets of scratch marks, two from each boy, run down her sides. From what she can see from her shoulders they're covered in discolored patches and light bruises. The space between her legs is wet and sticky and aches sweetly.

The only clothes that remain in the floor are hers. Where did the boys go? What if that affair was just a dream? No, then where did she get all these marks and the ache down at her core. They were here but now… they're not. Why did they leave? Clary decides she needs to clean up first before she investigates. A calm settles over Clary even though she knows it's misplaced. She can't remember why she should be panicked though. She steps into the shower and scrubs down gently, careful of her new bruises. Jonathon revoked her stele privileges so she can't… Wait why did Jonathon revoke her stele privileges? She steps out of the shower and quickly gets dressed as the memories come flooding back.

She was trying to break Jace out because Jonathon was going to kill him. Jonathon had forced her back into the room and taken away her stele. She had yelled at him… and then he knocked her out! He knocked her out and she woke up she couldn't remember what happened that she ended up in bed. All she remembered is that Jace wouldn't leave so she couldn't save him. She had felt the grip of depression and then Jace kissed her and then Jonathon. Then the bedroom and the sex. Angel the sex was amazing but they used it to distract her and it had worked. Those bastards! They used themselves to distract her and now they were gone.

In clothes Clary bolts out the door and down the hall. Panic starts to fill her body. What if Jace is already dead? What if Jonathon already killed him? Not that she holds any affection for either of them at the moment she still cares if Jonathon kills Jace. Jace doesn't deserve to die. If Jonathon kills him, he'll just be killing an angel, it will push Jonathon further away from redemption. But isn't that what Clary is? Jonathon's redemption. Isn't she supposed to be his angel so it is only right if she gives the redemption? It's not like the angels have been much help in any of this but what if they meant for her to be with Jonathon, to truly help him. Not save save the world or stop him from taking over but helping Jonathon fight his demon. No not fight it, balance it. That's why none have answered her call for escape because she was never meant to be anywhere else.

That is no excuse though for what Jonathon might do, for what he probably already has done. Her legs move as fast as she can possibly go, tearing through the halls. She doesn't know how but she's positive Jonathon is in the dungeon. She races through the halls and scrambles down the dungeon hall. Three doors down she hears a loud crash and she skids to a halt. She grabs the door frame to halt her momentum and pulls herself into the room.

White blond floods her vision as she crashes into the room. Jonathon stands in front of her with his back to her, cleaning what looks like a wicked blade with a gleaming sliver handle. She runs straight into his back, unable to stop her momentum, which makes him jerk forward in surprise. Before she fall though Jonathon whips around and catches her, his arm wraps around her waist. His arms are coated in scarlet blood from his hands to elbow. The warm liquid seeps into her shirt and touches her skin. She suppresses a scream as she wrenches away from Jonathon.

"What did you do to him?" Clary screams furiously.

Jonathon stands with a confused look on his face. He places the knife in his belt and reaches for her. Clary steps back out of his reach. "What did you do to Jace?" Clary now keeps her voice even but it drips with poison. Jonathon sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Golden boy got away this morning. Up and disappeared through the front door thanks to you," Jonathon says. He seems completely calm, not like the calm before an all-out demon rager but just… calm. Wary relief floods her as she thinks that her angel boy got away. What was Jonathon down here then, covered in blood? He might be taking out his anger on some other poor prisoner he had dragged here. Maybe.

"Why are you covered in blood then? If Jace supposedly escaped," Clary says. She can feel her wound from when she came here six months ago reopen but made larger. It's been reopened with a new weapon, instead of sorrow and homesickness it's opened with betrayal. Jace left without her, he's finally moved on. This should make Clary happy but all it does is remind her that she lost her first love.

"Information," Jonathon replies.

"What kind of information?" Clary asks, finally taking notice of the room. Blood splatters the wall in random, nonsensical designs. Jonathon's face is dotted with tiny dots of scarlet and so is his shirt. Used weapons are littered on the table, everything from whips to knives to something that looks like a thin metal cord of dental floss.

Jonathon smirks, his mouth turning up in a cruel quirk. "Information on rebels to the throne," Jonathon says, watching Clary intensely.

"What throne?" Clary says. Jonathon is watching for her reaction and she keeps a smooth face, not allowing any emotion to surface save suspicion.

"Our throne. There are one or two small rebel groups and our army is going out now to crush them. While we go and assume our places in the Glass City," Jonathon says smiling fully now.

Clary takes a step back and throws up her hands as if to ward Jonathon off. "I never agreed to that," Clary says, watching Jonathon as his eyes seem to divulge in some hidden plan. He circles her and she keeps him in her vision.

"Sure you did. You agreed when you shared a bed with me among sharing other things." His grin is eloquent as he swoops in and envelops Clary in a bloody embrace. Clary tries to keep calm, not wanting to freak out but she hisses in pain as Jonathon grazes one of the many bruises _he_ gave her.

"Watch it," she spits, trying to pull away from the pain spiking through her side. Jonathon frowns and pulls up her shirt which she tries to pull back down but Jonathon ends up taking it off completely in order to get a clear view of her.

His frown is replaced with a grin as he sees the hand like bruises entwining her body. "Yet more proof to your agreement," Jonathon says running his hands greedily over her. He's in an odd mood. Maybe it's because he finally gets to force Clary up onto a throne and publicly announce he finally got what he wanted. Just to rub it in. Maybe.

"Yeah and it hurts so stop touching it," Clary says shortly, trying to push Jonathon's hands off.

"Touching what? This?" His hand slips down into her pants and grazes over her sweet spot. Her hands dig into Jonathon's shirt as he moves his fingers.

Clary takes a deep breath and says, "Yes Jonathon, stop touching it. Get your hand out of my pants, I just took a shower and you're all bloody," Clary says trying her best to glare at Jonathon.

Jonathon doesn't let the smile fall from his face, seeing Clary's evident struggle but withdraws his hand with a sigh. "Fine but I'm not waiting tonight. The second your ass hits that bed your clothes are gone."

Clary shakes her hands in mock fear. "Oh, I'm so scared," she says her voice dripping sarcasm. Jonathon walks to the door, pulling Clary along with him.

"Scared is not the word I would use, little sister," Jonathon says with a dark smirk.

"Whatever," Clary says as Jonathon drags her long the corridors she just raced down, into their bedroom then bathroom. Jonathon turns on the shower and Clary turns to leave.

"Where are you going?" Jonathon asks.

"I'm leaving because I don't need a shower," Clary says over her shoulder. She feels something hot and liquid press against her back as Jonathon drags his bloody arm down her body, streaking it a dark crimson. She spins around to see Jonathon grinning; his once crimson arm now has a patch of pale skin where he wiped the blood on Clary's back. She just stares wide eyed and mouth agape.

"Now you do," Jonathon says ripping off his own clothes before stripping Clary's and he hauls her into the shower. He sprays Clary with hot water and she sputters.

"What the hell?"

"I'm cleaning you," Jonathon says.

"Give me that," Clary says and snatches the shower head out of Jonathon's hand and sprays him in the face before running it over her body after tying her already done hair up.

Jonathon is grinning like a mad man as he takes a bottle of body wash and squirts it at Clary. She flinches away from the soapy stream and glares at Jonathon. "Would you stop being childish?"

"I'm only trying to help my sister get clean," Jonathon says innocently.

Clary continues to glare at him and gets out of the shower. She dresses herself yet again and moves toward the door only to be taken down by Jonathon, dressed but still damp. His hair tousled and unruly, white blond strands falling in his face. His stupid grin is still plastered on his face. He kisses Clary excitedly, cupping the sides of her face and pinning her legs beneath him.

"What's the deal?" She says after Jonathon pulls away.

"I get to show off my queen today," Jonathon whispers in her ear before pulling at it with his teeth. He kisses her neck once then swings Clary off the floor and carries her bridal style to the front door.

Clary hangs her head back as she loops her arms around Jonathon's neck. She's not sure if she wants to be queen. What if she just wants to be the angel and not have to deal with politics and stupid things like that? Jonathon takes the opportunity of Clary's exposed neck to kiss it and draw at the skin leaving yet another mark.

"Don't I have enough already? Seeing as you took my stele away," Clary says, staring at the ceiling moving past her. Jonathon throws open the door and walks down the steps to the grass.

He chuckles and says, "No I don't think you'll ever have enough."

He drops her into the passenger seat of a jeep. The same jeep that he first threw her into and she saw the terrible man who was thrown in hell. Looking over at the driver seat she almost starts as Jonathon slides in. He really does look like their father. The jeep is open aired and once Jonathon starts up the silent engine the wind whips through her flaming red curls, getting in her face. In annoyance she gathers the spastic hair and ties it back in a knot. Jonathon chuckles at her frustration.

"How would you like it if you had large chunks of hair flying across your face and blocking your vision?" Clary asks Jonathon.

"I don't suppose I would like it," he says knitting his brow in mock thought. "Good thing I don't have long hair."

"Whatever." Clary stares at the setting sun, dipping down behind the rolling hills, painting the sky in crimson, orange and dark purple. The cloudless sky shimmers as complete darkness engulfs it. With the sun gone all Clary can see is the moonlight gleaming off the grass. The moon bathes everything in a faint silver sheen and looking over at Jonathon she can't help but admire how beautiful he looks. The silver light highlights his high cheekbones and glints against his black eyes.

Jonathon notices Clary staring and quirks his lip. Keeping one hand on the wheel he reaches over and loops an arm around Clary's waist, pulling her against him and sliding her across the bench seat. She lets the pleasure rune pulse slightly, letting it ease her stress. She can't tell why she's stressed. Maybe because Jonathon is forcing her to be a queen or because she doesn't quite trust what Jonathon said about Jace getting away. He wouldn't just let him slip like that. Though he had been thoroughly distracted at the time, maybe Jace had used that opportunity to escape.

She leans her head on Jonathon's shoulder as the open wound in her heart bleeds inside her chest. She knows this is what she wanted, for Jace to get away but she can't help but bleed that Jace would leave her behind. He said he wouldn't leave without her and she had believed him, that fierce stubbornness showing in his golden eyes. The fierceness she knew so well or she thought she did. She has been gone for half a year, Jace could have changed, could have moved on from her.

No, not with how he looked at her when she burst into that cell. He still loved her and that made it all the more painful. That she had to break Jace's heart for him to leave. Jonathon probably did it for her, dragging them all into the bedroom. She wraps her arms around herself and relaxes into Jonathon. She lets his warmth soak into her skin. She wonders where Jace is now. Is he staring at the same moon as her? She hopes he's okay, with the Lightwoods and her mom and Luke and Simon. She hopes they're all safe. At some point in the endless sea of moonlit grass and spanning dirt road she falls asleep, cradled against her brother.

The second Clary goes limp Jonathon lowers her head to rest on his thigh so she is stretched out along the bench. He keeps his eyes focused ahead but is tingling at Clary's presence. He had to do; it was the only way to keep his angel.

He sweeps those thoughts away as the lights from the Glass City rise in distance. Jonathon is going to start a new world, better than what his father planned on. In this Shadowhunters and Downworlders would be completely equal. He and Clary would rule as king and queen as a monarchy because since when has a democratic government ever worked out to satisfy all citizens. Clary would be his queen, his angel, his sister, his wife, his lover and she has seemed to accept it completely.

When they left Jonathon had been extra ecstatic because now they were going to take up residence in the newly renovated Gard. While Jonathon was away he had his followers redesign the Gard to be a castle, to be lived in. Where he and Clary would live and raise the next generations of Morgensterns. Where they would rule. Jonathon drives along the dirt road in silence, listening to the wind and Clary breath as he stares off into the night.

He slows as they near the border a few hours later then halts the vehicle where a few demon Shadowhunters are waiting for him. They salute him and one gives a report of the prisoners. Apparently they're all healthy if slightly underfed. The girl, Isabelle, broke after relentless torture. Jonathon doesn't want them dead he just knows they will start a rebellion but once he's convinced them that they should kneel to him he'll let them live in peace in his new kingdom, just as they had been.

Jonathon swings out of the jeep and hauls Clary's sleeping body out of the vehicle. The demon Shadowhunters brought him a pitch black horse and he jumps up in the saddle and places Clary's body in front of him. She is a terribly deep sleeper when she is utterly exhausted, he could literally blow an air horn and she wouldn't wake up. Her breath falters as Jonathon leans her body back against his but returns to normal as Jonathon stirs the horse into a walk guiding it through the now crowded streets of Alicante. He was surprised at how many Shadowhunters turned and swore fealty to him by blood oath. It made it much easier, much less blood to spill, literally speaking. A single cut and a few drops of blood from everyone is better than gallons of blood spilled on the battlefield, not that Jonathon doesn't appreciate bloodshed.

The stallion has reached the Gard stables and Jonathon jumps down, pulling Clary off after him. What he and Jace did to her this morning must have really depleted her for her to sleep like this. He smiles as he carries her through the doors of the Gard. The throne room now has two thrones on the dais seated side by side. One pure black, carved with demonic symbols the other pure gold and engraved with every angelic runes. He smiles as he slips the corridor that leads to the bedrooms.

He slips into the bedroom at the end of the hall. The bedroom is open with a master bed on one side with cathedral ceilings stained a dark cherry. There are plush love seats in one corner with built in book shelves. There is a large desk with art supplies piled on it for Clary and a standing easel next to it. The walls are blank warm beige for Clary to paint and decorate. The lights glow warmly behind crown moldings lining the walls.

He lays his angel down on the plush bed and starts to strip off her clothes. Shirt and pants off he walks over to the two separate closets and walks into his pulling out a loose cotton shirt. He slips it over his sister's delicate frame and slips under the covers with her. In the morning he would make the announcement to any remaining rebels to switch sides or be hunted down and killed. He flips the switch next to the bed and the lights shut off leaving him and Clary alone in the darkness. He pulls her tight against him and she wraps a leg around his.

His thoughts return to this morning after Clary fell asleep. He had to; he had to keep his angel. He had lied to spare her more heartbreak, though he should have told her. It doesn't matter now, not anymore. He has her firmly by his side and in his bed and tomorrow as his queen.


	17. The Angel's Family

_**Sorry it took me so long to update I had exams all week. I hope you guys like this chapter, I starting to smooth every thing over to end the story but trust me there are quite a few more chapters. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, nothin greally exciting happens but I liked writing the arguments between Clary and Jonathon. Please review! ;)**_

Clary stretches out on the plush softness below her, feeling soft fabric brush against her bare legs. Jonathon took her clothes again. She doesn't particularly care that he stripped her of her clothing, but that he well, stripped her of her clothing. She feels his warm body next to her before she opens her eyes. Running a hand over his abdomen she slowly opens her eyes to the light seeping in through the glass at her back. Jonathon is in his clothes from yesterday and has an arm bent behind his head his other arm is wrapped firmly around her, keeping her from moving even when he's asleep.

She rolls over in Jonathon's tight grasp and sees they're in a different room. This one has ceilings like a cathedral and there is a sitting area surrounded by bookcases. She smiles when she sees the desk with art supplies and an easel. Her fingers are itching to get a hold of them. She gently pries Jonathon's fingers from her waist; they're digging into her bruises from yesterday. Standing she looks down at herself. She's such a skinny thing but she has muscles built up so they shape her arms and legs nicely, flattening her stomach.

She walks over to the open bathroom door and stares at her neck. It's a mess of hickeys, trailing up and down her neck onto her shoulders and chest down into her bra. She wishes she has a stele. Everything is sensitive and she doesn't like being sensitive. She runs a finger over her neck then down to her collarbone. They skim the letters carved into her skin. She isn't very angry about the scar or mark anymore. In a weird sort of way it's comforting to know that she has a reminder of Jonathon on her. She looks over the rest of her body and scoffs. Okay a permanent one.

She walks back out to the bedroom, Jonathon is still sprawled on the bed and his shirt has ridden up, showing off his abdomen. Her fingers start to twitch and she grabs s fountain pen and sketch pad off the desk. She sits on the side of the bed with part of her head bent towards her book and the other towards Jonathon. Her hand moves over the paper and the picturesque Jonathon, sleeping soundly.

The completed fountain pen picture shows Jonathon in all black with his shirt rolled up to show his toned stomach. He lies on a pair of black angel wings sprouting from his back. The sunlight highlights his cheekbones and outlines his hair. The side of her arm is covered in ink but she leaves it as she throws the sketch book on the desk and goes to one of the four internal doors. She opens the door onto the 'her' closet and pulls on some jeans.

She walks back out into the room and Jonathon still hasn't woken up. She frowns and goes over to his side of the bed. She swings a leg up over Jonathon and sits on his stomach, placing her hands on either side of his head. She lowers her face to his and studies the lines there. Clary draws a deep breath in and says, "Jonathon!"

His eyes fly open and land on Clary in front of him. He smiles and says, "Yes, dear sister," and rests his arms around her back.

"You kind of slept in, I don't know where I am and I'm getting bored," Clary says.

"Hmm… Not for long, little sister," he says with a quick kiss on her lips. He sets her down on the bed and bolts into the 'his' closet. Quickly coming out in a fresh pair of clothes he grabs Clary's arm and they both stride out into the hall.

"May I ask where we are?" Clary says as she looks around the vaguely familiar hall.

"The Gard," Jonathon says turning down another hallway and into a small room with another door.

Clary wrenches away from Jonathon and stares in horror at her brother. "We're in the Gard!" Panic layers her stomach and her eyes flit around nervously.

Jonathon sighs, taking Clary's arm again but she stays planted to the ground. "Yes little sister the Gard." He looks at her for a moment as her heart pounds in her chest. They might get caught. What were they doing in the Gard? Weren't they at war?

"Oh that's right, I never told you. We won the war little sister." Jonathon smiles brilliantly, like this is supposed to be good news.

Clary stands open mouthed. He won; her brother was successful in burning down the world. Successful in taking over. What happened to her friends? Her mother? Jonathon now controls the Shadowhunters. What if he's an evil tyrant? He's probably going to be terrible haughty ruler. Now he's got what he wants, is he going to turn back to the demon she first met? He won't be this happy boy she sees before her, but a raging violent demon that even she can't control. She thinks. What about the Clave members? What happened to them? Did he kill them? How much Shadowhunter blood had to be spilt for Jonathon to place himself on the throne?

"Clary? Clary? Clarissa?"

Clary realizes that Jonathon has been calling her name for a few moments. Her eyes come back into focus to see Jonathon leaning down and searching her face. Clary shakes her head to clear her thoughts and looks at her brother with a hint of fear now. What were they even doing at the Gard? Yesterday he said it was to show off his new queen but she can't quite wrap her head around Jonathon wanting to show someone like her off.

"Sorry," she says and is surprised that her voice comes out slightly unsteady.

Jonathon shrugs his shoulders. "No matter. Come on our subjects are waiting."

Subjects? What subjects? Does he expect to rule as a king? Somehow she doesn't think the Shadowhunters will take kindly to that, but on the other hand she doesn't really know the Shadowhunters well enough to make such a claim. Jonathon takes hold of her arm and drags her through the small door on the other side of the room.

The sunlight blazes through the skylights as she is pulled out onto a dais in the foyer of the Gard. The room is filled with thousands of Shadowhunters and Downworlders milling about. On the steps is a closed off area rimmed with the demon Shadowhunters. In front of them are people on their knees with their hands bound behind their backs. Their heads are bent towards the ground and are only a few. Among them she sees two familiar heads topped with jet black hair. One waist length the other cropped short. Clary rushes forward of her own accord towards Isabelle and Alec and only moves faster when she catches sight of long crimson hair much like her own, her mother. What did Jonathon do? He's kept Izzy, Alec and her mother prisoner this whole time and didn't bother telling her! If he has them and he had Jace does he have Simon?

No one in the room has seen them yet so when Jonathon grabs her around the waist and places his hand over her mouth no one notices. He draws them into a dark alcove next to the dais, hidden behind a tapestry. Clary kicks and struggles against Jonathon whose grip just tightens as he shoves her against the wall with his hand still over her mouth. He presses his body up against hers as she jerks her hips against his trying to get out of his grip.

"Clary, don't scream, stop struggle. I haven't done anything to them. They're fine. Don't you see?" He nods towards her bound friends and mother.

She continues struggling and lets out a muffled scream. He kept them captive! Just like Jace, he's a monster! He kept her friends, their own _mother_, as prisoners! She thought her mother was dead! Jonathon withheld the truth from her again! She could have broken them out ages ago instead of letting them rot in some dungeon. Jonathon's grip continues to tighten until she lets out a cry of pain as Jonathon's nails dig into her side. Her gaze locks on to Jonathon and glares at him with a fiery hatred.

"I told you their fine Clary. Stop struggling okay? I'm moving my hand, but if you scream I _will_ put a quietude rune on you," Jonathon says softly.

He removes his hand from Clary's mouth. "If they're fine why are they tied up and on the ground? Why didn't you tell me my mother was alive? I know you heard my conversation with Jace!" Clary hisses venomously, still struggling against Jonathon's body pressed up against hers.

Jonathon draws back and slams her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. His face is blank of any emotion save a commanding expression he now focuses on Clary, trying to force her to calm down.

"I'm giving them a chance to surrender, Clary," Jonathon says, his voice calm and unwavering, ignoring the question about her mother.

"And what if they don't? Are you going to kill them like dogs just because they won't bend to your will?" Clary stops struggling to look for Jonathon's reaction.

His face is still cold and expressionless as he says, "I will give them the opportunity to surrender and live peacefully under my rule. If they choose to rebel I will be forced to kill them. That is how I deal with nuisances."

"What? Just like you dealt with me when I first resisted your attempts to rape me?" Clary seethes, she isn't going to let Jonathon kill her mother and friends. Jace is already gone and she can't lose anyone else.

For the second time in her life, she has rendered her brother speechless. A stony expression settles on his features before he drops her to the ground and she wrenches away from him. She barges into the throne room where the Lightwoods and her mother are kneeling. She marches up to a demon Shadowhunter who looks stunned as she pulls a short blade off him. He does nothing as she rounds the prisoners and slices the ropes off her mother and the Lightwood siblings, not sparign a glance at the others kneeling on the floor. She can feel the eyes of the entire hall on her but she doesn't care. The Lightwoods and her mother stare at her in shock as they stand, rubbing their wrists. Clary ignores their looks and proceeds to push the three to the back door through which she and Jonathon had come. She pushes them past Jonathon who stands idly in the alcove, watching with a cold glare, knowing he can do nothing to stop his sister and when Clary looks behind her she sees a familiar sparkly warlock trailing behind her.

The three Shadowhunters she is shoving through the door are stunned, wide eyed and don't say a thing as she throws all of them into the small room and Magnus shuts the door behind them. The three turn around to stare at Clary who is now fighting to hold back tears. She clenches the blade in her hand, his fist trembling. They're alive, her mother's alive. They had to sit in prison for who knows how long. Clary drops the blade on the floor, relief flooding her at the sight of the older version of herself. There is a stiff, unbelieving silence between them.

"Mom," Clary squeaks out, breaking the silence, and Jocelyn surges forward and wraps Clary in a hug that crushes her ribs. Alec and Isabelle join in and they stand in each other's embrace in silence, letting sobs and tears loose.

Jocelyn, Alec and Isabelle pull back but Jocelyn keeps her hands on Clary's shoulders. "Clary are you okay? What did Jonathon do to you?" Jocelyn says frantically searching her daughter's face.

"What did he do to me?" she whispers quietly. She can't think about that now so she turns the attention away. "You guys were the ones tied up on the floor. Are _you _okay? Where have you been?"

"Alec and I have only been locked up in the dungeons for a few days but your mom was taken, when was it Alec? Three months ago?" Isabelle says from behind Clary. Clary spins around raising her eyebrows, facing a dirty and grimy Isabelle.

"I know she was imprisoned but I thought she was dead! Jonathon didn't tell me mom was alive for _three months_ in his prisons?" Clary says, her cheeks coloring.

Alec knits his brows finally focusing on her. He and Magnus had been embracing for a long while. "Why would Jonathon have told you?"

Clary's shoulders sink with the weight if the last six months settles on them. She lets out a sigh. "I… it… can't… I don't know how to explain. I'm still Jonathon's prisoner but he's come to trust me more and I've had to be somewhat compliant so he doesn't whip me again…"

"Again?" Jocelyn turns her around and pull down the collar of her shirt, well Jonathon's shirt. She must have seen the mark, the brand. Jocelyn's eyes widen in horror as she sees the initials carved into her skin. The letters she used to cry over for sixteen years once every year. "Oh Clary…" Jocelyn runs a finger across the letters and she winces in pain. "What did he do to you?"

Clary withdraws from her mother's touch and wraps her hands around her elbows. "I don't care to relive the moment, mom," Clary says quietly, not with anger but pain, laced into her every syllable as she remembers the day Jonathon chained her up and carved his brand into her skin despite her words to her mother. The brand still hurts immensely but she has learned to live with it just as Jonathon said he's learned to live with his whip marks though she assumes his pain is tenfold to hers.

"Magnus," Clary says.

"Yes," Magnus says looking at her with those brilliant yellow cat eyes, clear and attentive.

"I noticed that you were walking freely. Can you please tell me that you don't support my brother but weren't stupid enough to oppose him?" Clary asks miserably. Jonathon has won and no one can dethrone him no matter how hard they try. She doesn't want her family and friends to die because of it.

"I don't support your brother but I don't want to get my head chopped off either. Besides it hasn't actually been that bad, all the Shadowhunters and Downworlders are equal now, or as far as I can see. Nobody who's surrendered to Jonathon has died yet," Magnus says matter-of-factly.

"Hasn't been that bad? We've been sitting in prison and you've been waltzing about the city buying new sequined jackets?" Alec says sharply.

"Alec please don't blame him. My brother, you don't know what he has backing him up, what he can do to you. I have, Alec and I don't want any of you getting hurt. Magnus can you take my mom, Alec and Isabelle to where ever you're staying until I can talk some sense into Jonathon so he doesn't kill you?" Clary says sheepishly.

Magnus nods his head but Jocelyn grabs her arms and forces her gaze into her mother's own green eyes. "Clary I have lost you too many times and I will not let you go with Jonathon. Not again," Jocelyn says.

"You're going to have to," Jonathon says from the door way. Everyone in the small room jumps except for Clary, whose body sags with dread and has to repress a groan. Jocelyn regains her composure and steps in front of Clary, shielding her with her body. Jonathon leans against the door frame with his arms crossed and he stares pointedly at Clary, possession evident in his gaze.

"Mom, please don't." Clary says trying to step out from behind her but Jocelyn moves with her.

"Yes Jocelyn, don't. Clary knows her place and that's by my side. Clary," Jonathon says his voice threatening, edged with cold anger, as his gaze passes over their mother. Clary knows what Jonathon wants. He is in such a fragile mood, he let her barge into that room and unbind their hands. He let her have this time with them, not killing them, but he won't tolerate it any longer. He wants her by his side, _now_ and she can see in his look that he will take what he wants if he doesn't get it willingly.

Clary ducks out from behind her mother and walks over to her brother. He wraps an arm around her and it burns like wildfire. Shame flushing her cheeks and neck along with burning hatred, she squirms under his touch as she can feel Jonathon's smug smile. She ignores it and looks to Magnus.

"Will you please? Just until I come and get them," Clary says, pain and pleading swimming in her eyes.

Magnus nods and takes Alec's hand looking to Isabelle and Jocelyn. Defiance burns in her mother's green eyes as she squares her shoulders. Clary's eyes widen as she predicts her mother's next move and before she can get herself killed Clary says, "Mother please, just go with Magnus. I'll come find you when I can."

"Clary I will not leave with this beast that Valentine made. Not again. It's not Jonathon's fault he's like this but I won't let him poison you like I let Valentine did to me," Jocelyn says her gaze locked on Jonathon, burning with hatred and a painful love. As if it physically hurts her to look at Jonathon. Her son. She could have had a normal son who she loved and cherished but Valentine had to put demon blood in his system. He had to burn away his humanity but that's what she's for, to be his humanity.

Jonathon's grip tightens painfully on her shoulder and she lets out a strangled gasp. Jocelyn takes a step forward but Isabelle throws her arm out to stop her. Magnus and Alec come up behind her and hold her arms to prevent her from beating her own son.

She spins on them with a venomous look.

"Jocelyn, your daughter is right we need to go," Magnus says.

Clary can hear Jonathon growl in anger. "Yes, Jocelyn do _leave._ I do believe you've worn out your time with your throat still intact," Jonathon says moving him and Clary out of the way of the door. Clary's eyes widen with the threat Jonathon just made and she elbows him in the stomach but makes a whimpering sound as his hand clamps down painfully tight on her shoulder. Magnus and Alec have to practically drag a snarling Jocelyn from the room out into the larger throne room, Isabelle trailing behind them. She casts a painful, pitiful glance at Clary and she attempts a reassuring smile back as the door swings shut.

As soon as the door closes Jonathon swings Clary around to face him only to find her glaring and he returns her glare.

Clary is the first to speak and she doesn't do it quietly, "You kept our mother in prison for three months and didn't tell me! No I don't care you didn't tell me, I care because you kept _our mother_ in a fucking cell for three months!"

"Why do you care? She's lied to you, she left you and she hid you from yourself! Clary I don't understand why you love her. She never loved me because I was an experiment how are you any different? Valentine experimented on you too and I don't understand why you got the love of our mother and I didn't! Jocelyn hated me and still hates me because of what I am yet she adores you! So excuse me for not telling you about the woman who resents me with her entire being!" Jonathon yells back his grip still tight on her upper arms.

"Oh no. You don't get to play the pity card, you manipulative bastard. You also kept my friends in the dungeon without telling me. I don't doubt you have Simon; you threw Jace in a cell before he got away and kept it _all_ from me! You won this god damn war over what was supposed to be my home and said not a fucking word to me! We're supposed to be equals Jonathon. That can't happen when you keep my friends and my own mother locked in a cell without telling me!"

Clary wrenches out of Jonathon's grasp and moves toward the door to the throne room, intending to go after her family but Jonathon pulls her back into the small room and pushes her up against a wall again.

"Damn it Jonathon! Don't you get tired of this? Just let me go!" Clary says tiredly, her voice laced in annoyance as well as fatigue.

"I am not letting you go and you know that. The second you step out those doors you'll run and I am not letting that happen," Jonathon says. His eyes are hard and black.

"How do you know that? How do you know that I won't come back? After six months in that hellhole with you there is no way I can't not come back. I'm chained to you Jonathon, like a slave! You'll come find me and kill everyone I love just for the hell of it. You've poisoned me so much that I can't stay with my own mother. So at least let me go see my family seeing as you aren't!" She hisses. She is in a pure rage at Jonathon. She just admitted that she has to come back because she can't stay with her real family. She has to come back to him just because he needs her.

Jonathon's face contorts with pain and anguish before he releases her and says, "Fine but I'm having guards follow you," Jonathon says.

"Oh like I'm in danger. You're just scared I won't come back, coward!"

Jonathon says nothing but sounds a fast, low whistle and two demon Shadowhunters appear out of the corner of the room.

"Go with her. Make sure she comes back," Jonathon says curtly he turns and walks away down the hall. Clary turns the opposite direction and strides out into the now empty throne room. Jonathon must have given a speech but she doesn't care, she strides through the double doors and out onto the cobblestone street. A fire message pops up in front of her showing her a picture of a villa in the center of town. She knows it Magnus's, the image quickly dissipates after showing her a map and a glowing path for her to take and she runs in the direction of the villa. She runs as fast as her legs can carry her, which due to her training with Jonathon is fairly fast. She takes extra turns to lose Jonathon's lackeys on her tail before finally arriving at the villa.

She rushes up the steps and rapidly knocks on the door, she doesn't want the demon Shadowhunters to see her if they catch up. The door swings open and Clary is wrenched inside and into an embrace. The door slams shut behind her and she looks at Izzy, crushing her ribs in her hug.

"Izzy, are you okay? Did they do anything to you?" Clary asks after pulling out of Clary's embrace only to have strong arms wrap around her from behind. Even though he's her friend she didn't expect him to hug her. Alec holds her while Izzy explains the torture they put her through, trying to get her to surrender. Jonathon, apparently didn't want them dead, he wanted as many subjects as he could get but Izzy and Alec had never given in. They never bothered to touch Jocelyn which bewildered Clary because she would have thought Jonathon would have her killed, just to get rid of the unloving mother that has haunted him for his entire life.

"Our parents relented and joined them," Alec says as he lets her down and Jocelyn embraces her. "They told us that we had to surrender too but we couldn't not after they took Jace and tortured us." Alec says this with a grim expression.

Clary's shoulders droop as she says these next words, "Alec I need you to surrender. Well, at least not fight back, I can't have you guys get killed when you could live happy lives either here or back at the New York Institute because if you fight I know, _I know_ for a fact that Jonathon will not hesitate in killing all of you. Please just resist in your own way but not directly to my brother's face. _Please_, I can't lose any of you." Tears streak down her face as she buries her face into her mother's hair.

"Please," she murmurs pitifully.

"Are you sure there's nothing else we can do? No way we can fight him?" Izzy asks.

"Yes I'm sure he's got almost every Shadowhunter under his control and about every Downworlder. You can't beat him, you'll die trying and I won't let that happen." Clary turns as she looks at their faces each in turn through blurry eyes.

Their expressions are grim but they nod in agreement, trusting Clary to know that they'll be killed if they try to resist her brother. She breaks into a new round of sobs as she cries, "Thank you, thank you. I love all of you. Thank you."

They all embrace her one more time then let her go. Magnus moves to sit on the couch with Alec, Isabelle sits on the arm rest and Jocelyn sits in a chair. Clary sits in another plush chair and let's herself relax for the first time this morning. They're all staring at her and she squirms in her seat.

"What?" Clary says calmly looking at her mother then Magnus, Alec and Izzy.

"Clary," Isabelle says cautiously. "What did Jonathon do to you in those six months?"

Clary's jaw tenses as she remembers those first weeks with her brother. Should she tell them? Tell them what he did to her? She at least needs to tell them everything but the sex. She needs to get it off her chest. She slowly begins to tell them about being kidnapped in the park and Jocelyn watches with a tense, terrified expression. Jocelyn gasps and sits back in her chair with her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes but doesn't say anything as Clary continues her story. She closes her eyes and leans her head up to face the ceiling blindly running through everything that happened. She heard gasps and shrieks at some parts but continued, her friends and mother allowing her to continue. At some point she lets her deeds in bed with Jonathon slip. Jocelyn shrieks in horror.

"Please just don't do anything. He's just going to take what he wants and I've found it less painful if I let it happen and I don't want you getting involved over something as foolish and expendable as my chastity. It doesn't matter to me so it shouldn't to you. Do you understand?" Clary says wearily. She opens her eyes to see the looks on their faces and their tense jaws just nod, knowing they cannot stop her brother and if they try they will lose their lives and endanger Clary further.

Clary truly doesn't care about her chastity. It doesn't matter to her and she'll let Jonathon have it as long as he doesn't hurt her family who now include Alec, Isabelle, Magnus and Simon wherever he is, she'll find him. She finishes her story and rises from her seat. Her family's expressions are a mixture of shock, horror and weariness.

"I have to get back to the Gard now before Jonathon burns down the whole city looking for me. He sent two guards to chaperone me but I lost them on the way over. I'll come by tomorrow or as soon as Jonathon will let me," Clary says as she kisses her mother on her forehead and Izzy and Alec embrace her. Magnus gives a tight, sympathetic smile as Clary heads out the door.

Clary strides down the stairs and back in the direction of the Gard. She feels somewhat happy, lighter now that she got everything off her chest. She lets a small smile creep onto her face as she walks through the cobblestone streets, still on high alert for Jonathon's lackeys, he probably sent out a whole unit looking for her. As she walks she keeps her muscles rigid but her mind seems to relax. The Shadowhunters walking through the streets smile brightly at her and it confuses her but she ignores it.

She approaches the looming Gard and walks through the giant front doors. She's surprised no one's tackled her yet, since she was gone for almost the whole day. The sun is setting in the horizon, making the Glass City sparkle like a palette of diamonds. She walks up the dais and through the door behind the throne. Her mood holds, light and airy, oblivious to whose bed she's headed to. She smiles as she walks through her bedroom door and straight to the desk with the art supplies, sitting down starting to draw her family. Jocelyn, Alec, Isabelle, Simon, Magnus, even Jace with her in the center. They stand in front of the demon towers with their arms wrapped around each other and she draws each face in detail while their faces are still fresh in her mind. They're all smiling, the only nonexistent time it will happen. Them together, smiling and happy.

She wonders where Jonathon is. Probably scouring the city in a desperate rage searching for her. At the moment she doesn't care. Magnus put a cloaking spell on the villa so they should be fine. Her eyes eventually droop in fatigue and she lays her head down on the desk to sleep. She passes out with the image of her drawing, her family happy, burnt into her mind.


	18. Full Thoughts

_**This is my longest chapter for this story but oddly enough it doesn't really have anything important in it. I'm starting to wrap up the story now. Once that's done I'll have a couple epilogue-ish chpaters than that's the end of the story. I will then commit myself to my second story, maybe even start a new one. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Oddly I enjoyed myself immensely writing it. Don't know why, just did. Have fun!**_

Jonathon finishes yelling at the incompetent demon Shadowhunters. "You can't even keep track of a single redhead! I should have you two thrown in the dungeons for your negligence!" Jonathon yells.

"Sir, she took evasive maneuvers," the guard sputters out.

"I don't care for your excuses! Find my sister!" Jonathon yells and spins on his heel, storming through the Gard to grab his hunting gear. His vision is clouded a red-black, anger coursing through his veins. His supposedly superior Shadowhunters can't even keep track of his sister. He strides into his closet and blindly pulls on his weapons belt and a leather jacket. He straps a sword across his back even though he knows it will be unnecessary it's just a precaution.

Jonathon turns around and heads straight out the doors of the Gard. Twenty-two of his now castle guard, consisting of demon Shadowhunters, stand at the bottom of the steps, alert and ready to receive orders.

"Split up, four groups, I want her found! Don't harm her but get her back to the Gard any means necessary. Don't kill her pestilent companions either. Move!" Jonathon shouts, his guard splits up, five each and two with him. They scoured the city, breaking down doors and turning over every stone imaginable but they couldn't find Clary.

Jonathon is fuming by the time they get back to the Gard. The sun has dipped behind the mountains in the north and the sky is ink black except for the burning lights of the Glass City. He dismisses the guards to continue to search Brocelind Plain and Brocelind Forest and storms down the halls of the Gard. He's going to find Clary, he's going to kill every last one of her annoying companions including their mother and then he's going to throw Clary in a cell and keep her there. She is not going anywhere after this stunt. Not the kitchen, not the city, not outside, nowhere without him and only him. His guards have proved they can't keep track of his little sister and he isn't going to allow her to get away on the incompetence of others.

He is going to cause so much hell that she… Jonathon throws open the door to his room and sees Clary passed out at the art desk, her hands covered in ink and her red hair splayed across her shoulders. He backs out of the room and closes the door then hastily opens it again, to make sure Clary isn't a hallucination of his enraged mind. It isn't. His little sister came back, just like she said she would. She kept her promise and came back to him. Relief floods Jonathon, his previous thoughts forgotten, and he strides over to the desk, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to confirm she's not a hallucination. He lets out a heavy sigh as his hand rests on his angel's soft skin. A pencil and notebook fall from her hands as he moves her to the bed.

He's not going to allow his sister to sleep on the desk. Her words still sting him from earlier as he sets her under the covers and strips her clothes, leaving her in a camisole and underwear. He pulls the covers up to her shoulders and sits down in one of the plush love seats. He drags his hands down his face and looks toward his sister. Does she really think him a monster? Of course she does what else would he be? That is the whole reason she's here, to be his humanity, his angel, his balance, his other half.

At the moment Clary probably doesn't want him anywhere near her. She deserves the space but he's not leaving her alone. Not after her stunt today, she is never leaving his side again. He unstraps his sword from his back and puts it back in the weapons room attached to his closet. Clary has a weapons room too; she just hasn't found it yet. He strips off his weapons belt. He walks back into the room and pulls a chair up to the bed, tugging off his boots he props his feet up on the edge of the bed. He stares at Clary's sleeping face, her fiery curls spread across the pillow and Jonathon props his chin on his fist, staring.

Clary's chest rises and falls evenly and her eyes flutter in dream. He looks down at the fallen sketch book and picks it up. He opens to the first page to see her and some people standing in front of the demon towers. She looks happy and beautiful, her smile always lights up her face, making her green eyes blaze with warmth and happiness. His eyes roam across the page to find their mother, standing behind her and Jace, her arms draped over their shoulders. The Lightwoods and that warlock stand on either side of the group with that werewolf and Daylighter. And standing on the other side of Clary with his arm wrapped around her waist is him, leaning his head on top of hers with a genuine smile on his face. He doesn't know if he's ever had a smile caused from pure happiness but it makes him look… handsome, at peace. His look holds no malice or violence only a brotherly love for his sister.

He has to admit she is an amazing artist. He can't wait for her to decorate the walls of this bedroom. He runs a finger down the drawn version of him and wonders if he had grown up with her, that brotherly love he sees glinting in those drawn eyes would be the only love. Probably not because Valentine still would have gotten to him, injecting him with Lilith's blood. His eyes glance over the face of Jace and their mother, momentary anger flaring but it dampened with the more powerful feeling of rage that the people in this drawing had taken her from him today. He's never letting her go, not now, not ever, not to some rag tag team of pathetic Shadowhunter. She's never leaving his sight, he doesn't think, for a _very _long time.

He sets the sketch book down on the desk and leans his head back. He falls asleep, staring at Clary's beautiful red hair.

Clary rolls over and snaps her eyes open to the early morning light streaming through the windows. She feels something sitting on her feet and she looks down to see feet… just not hers. She follows the legs clothed in jeans all the way to a black shirt up to a sleeping, handsome face topped with white-blond hair. Jonathon. She wonders what his reaction was when he found her asleep at the desk after she had disappeared most of the day. Mustn't have been too angry not to wake her up and yell at her for disappearing.

She watches him for a moment before he too opens his dark eyes to find her staring at him. Neither of them smile they just look at each other for a while, no hatred or admiration, just calculation. Clary slides out of bed past Jonathon and into the bathroom. She passes the mirror and notices that too much pale color is flashing in her reflection. She backs up and glares at her camisole and panties. Jonathon is getting very liberal with removing her clothing. Her cheeks flare red as her eyes trace the brand and the _beati_. She shakes her head and steps into the shower, quickly running the water through her hair and conditioning the red curls.

She steps out and dries off, wrapping the towel around her chest. She wrings out her hair and braids it into a side braid, walking out into the bedroom to her closet. Jonathon now sits on the couch, staring at her as she walks to her closet. She locks the door behind her and dresses in a loose black shirt and a tank top. She digs around the closet until she finds a panel in the wall. She presses it and it slides sideways, revealing a wall of weapons ranging from long swords to knives. She slides a dagger into her boot and another into her belt, just for precaution, she doesn't know why but she feels the need for protection or else she'll feel naked.

She unlocks the closet door and sees Jonathon still studying her. She glares, grabs her jacket off the back of the desk chair and heads toward the door. Jonathon is in front of her in a flash, blocking her way. Clary sighs in exasperation and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Are you going to speak or continue gawking at me?" Clary says with an annoyed roll of her eyes.

"You don't get to go anywhere after yesterday. Not without me at least," Jonathon says coolly.

"Oh joy, you're playing prison guard again. I'm going to get food genius, now move," Clary says pushing him out of the way.

Jonathon follows Clary down the hall as she moves toward the kitchen. "I wouldn't have to play prison guard if you actually respected my authority and didn't ditch the guards I send to watch you."

"Yeah well I couldn't really see my family and let myself have two minutes of peace with two hulking buffoons at my back. Now could I?" Clary glances over her shoulder to see Jonathon walking directly behind her.

Jonathon is silent for a moment and she can see his defeated glare out of the corner of her eye. She's getting better at out talking him. Then he spoke as Clary found a deserted kitchen but the fridge was full and she pulled out a bottle of orange juice.

"I wish you wouldn't scare me like that," he says quietly as Clary takes a sip from the bottle. "I didn't know if you would come back."

Clary sighs and sets the bottle down on the counter. She cups Jonathon's face in her hands. "I have to come back, Jonathon. That's my job now. To take care of you but you don't get to dictate my every move," she says.

"But that's my job angel. I can't let you out of my sight now. I can never tell if you're going to leave me." He puts his hands over Clary's on his cheeks. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "You can't leave me, Clary. If you go I'll be consumed by darkness with no light to lead me out."

"Jonathon, I will never leave you. I can't, but you don't get to follow me around like some guard dog, never letting me do anything," Clary says with a somber look, drawing her hands away from his face but Jonathon's seizes her hips and pulls her flush with him.

"But I am your dog," he says with a dirty smile. "Yours to love, to hate, to heal, to control. Yours to have _completely_."

Jonathon's eyes swim with lust and longing. As the words leave his lips, he crushes his mouth to hers and digs his nails into her sides, holding her in place. Clary tries to pull away but Jonathon wraps his strong arms around her back and drags her back towards the door. She stumbles after him, Jonathon leaving her no choice. Yelling at him is exhausting so why not do the opposite and have a little fun, let herself come undone under his touch instead of being rigid and cold. She runs her hands through his hair and kisses him back passionately. He slams back against the wall and Clary leans into him as he runs his hands up her back then down to her rear. He grips it, pulling her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. Once her legs are tightly pressed around Jonathon's waist he pushes off the wall and walks to their door as Clary leans down and presses kisses to his throat, making him growl.

He kicks open the door and Clary and Jonathon fall down on the bed. Before Jonathon's weight has the chance to crush her he props himself on his elbows and returns kisses to her neck, nipping at the skin. Clary pulls off her shirt under him and works his shirt up his abdomen. Jonathon moves down to her pants and slides them off then reaches his arms up to take his shirt off. Clary's chest exposed, Jonathon ducks down to drag kiss after sweet kiss down her chest to stomach, all the way the the tops of her panties. He pushes them down without hesitation and keeps his hands on her hips. He hasn't done this before but she's curious as to what it will feel like. Jonathon's already done everything else with her, this should be no different.

His hot breath near her core sends shivers up her spine and his lips brush her skin. She tangles her fingers in his hair as he kisses her core. His tongue darts out and she arches her back at the unfamiliar contact. It feels sensational though. He smiles against her and draws her in between his teeth, making her gasp and writhe beneath him. Her chest heaves up and down with heavy pants as Jonathon continues to slip his tongue inside her and press against her sweet spot.

She lets out a moan and Jonathon only presses harder. Pleasure racks her body and Jonathon pulls back to trail up her body again. "You taste like an angel," he says smiling down at her.

She smiles back. "Isn't that what I am?" She pulls him into a fiery kiss and he pulls down his boxers. He thrusts into her and she groans, deep in her throat and Jonathon muffles it with another kiss. He gently presses his tongue into her mouth and it tastes tangy but sweet, the taste of her.

She pulls back and kisses his neck as he thrusts again, pulling a moan from her and she sucks his neck, finally leaving a mark of her own on his neck. Her nails dig into the muscle of his back and he chuckles into her red hair.

"What's… _nnh_… so funny to you?" Clary asks with a small smile on her face.

"Because you're so beautiful, you're all mine, you're in my bed," Jonathon says against her neck rolling his hips just so that she almost screams.

"Yeah, I've been in your bed for almost seven months and you still find it shocking enough that you laugh. I know I'm pretty but am I _that_ pretty."

Jonathon moves again and she screams, Jonathon leaning down to her ear to whisper, "You are _so_ much better." He nips at her ear before thrusting again, shoving Clary over the edge and she screams her release only to have it muffled by Jonathon's mouth. Then she returns the favor as he drops off his peak and moans into her mouth. Clary gives him a chaste kiss and shoves him off. Jonathon looks over at her in shock. Whatever, she needs to get out, she isn't going to be Jonathon's lap dog for the rest of the day. So she is going out to go see her family and maybe go sightseeing with them, do something fun.

Something occurs to her as she pulls on some clothes. Simon, she hasn't seen Simon in forever and Jonathon said he had him. Walking out of the closet to the still naked Jonathon lying on the bed she leans over him with a scowl on her face.

"Where's Simon?" How could she forget about Simon?

"In the dungeons, second sector, specialty cells," Jonathon blurts. Confusion passes across his face as to why he just revealed this information and before he can stop her she places a quick kiss on his lips, says thanks and is out the door. She strides down the hall, stony determination set on her face and when she is stopped by the demon Shadowhunters one look from her and they back off. She turns a few corners and hurries down a set of stone stairs. She meets two guards standing at the entrance of the dungeon.

She stops as the guards block her path.

"Sorry your majesty, you can't go in. Your brother's orders," one dark haired man says. Your majesty? You know what, never mind. She doesn't want to deal with it right now.

She turns her fiery gaze on him, her face cool but her eyes speak of murder. "Yes well my _brother_ has given me permission. If you don't move I'd be happy to learn your name and give it to my brother to see how he deals with denying his orders. Especially coming from _me._" Clary says.

The guards exchange a frightened look and move aside. Before she enters the dungeons she looks to the dark haired guard. "Which way are the second sector, specialty cells?"

The guard points down one of the many hallways and she strides off down it. She passes one with the Star of David and halts, knowing no other vampire would have a Jewish religious symbol carved into their prison door. She knocks.

"Simon?" She says quietly. She needs to make sure it's him before opening some random prison door, no matter how obvious.

"Clary?" Simon calls from behind the door.

Yep that's her Simon. She had swiped the keys off one of the guards on her way in and inserts the key into the hole, disengaging the lock with a loud click. The door flies open and Clary is enveloped in a crushing hug.

"Hey Simon," she says returning his hug. "Please save your questions for later I just need to get you to Magnus's."

"Magnus's? Clary where are we?" Simon asks, pulling back from the hug. Clary takes his wrist and guides him back down the hall the way she came.

"Alicante, Simon. Save the rest for later because I need to get you out of here," Clary says, keeping her voice calm.

Simon complies and keeps his questions to himself even as they walk past the two guards and they don't try to stop them. Clary guides them through the interior halls until they come to the throne room. Clary marches them straight through the front doors and out into the morning light reflecting off the demon towers. Clary lets a little smile creep up on her face. She pulls out her stele and sends a fire message to Magnus telling him to meet them in Angel Square. Clary doesn't want to lead the demon Shadowhunters straight to where her family is just in case Jonathon decides to throw them back in the dungeon.

They weave through the streets, Clary checking behind them every so often to make sure they aren't being followed. When she's made sure they haven't Clary pulls them into an alcove in Angel Square with a bench and sits them both down. Once sitting Clary wraps her arms around Simon and Simon returns her hug, burying his face in her hair.

"Clary I missed you so much. Are you okay? What did Jonathon do? Did he hurt you?" Simon asks not letting Clary out of their embrace.

"I missed you too Simon," Clary says tears in her eyes. "Don't worry about me; I want to know how Jonathon caught you. How long were you down there?"

"I was only down there for a few days. Your brother caught me, Isabelle, Alec and Jace at a battle on Brocilend Plain. He was taking as many captives as possible."

She'll have to talk to Jonathon about keeping them locked away from her. Not in a friendly manner either but right now she just enjoys Simon's company. She asks what he did in the six months leading up to his capture. He says that all of them were planning out the battles with the Clave, trying to convince them that this way or that way is better but of course they didn't listen and most of the Clave got taken down. They wouldn't listen to Jace's experience with her brother and they charged head first into war, getting a lot of them killed. Simon and Magnus and Jace had gotten together, gathering all the allies they could think of. They fought one last battle, trying to save the rest of the Shadowhunters but they failed resulting in Jace's capture, Luke's, Simon's, Isabelle's, Alec's, Magnus's and Jocelyn's earlier.

Clary drags her hands down her face. Looking through her fingers she sees an especially sparkly warlock walking towards them. Clary shoots up off the bench and Magnus hugs her.

"Hey," Simon says from the alcove.

Magnus turns a shocked look on Simon then one on Clary. "You broke him out?"

Clary shrugs her shoulders. "More like walked him out. Being the sister of the new leader does have its perks. Wait," she turns back to Simon. "Luke was captured?"

"Yeah he went into battle with us and one of the Shadowhunters tranquilized him in wolf form," Simon says.

Clary's cheeks flare red and she says, "Wait here."

Simon and Magnus watch Clary stride back to the Gard. They exchange a look of raised eyebrows as they watch the red head disappear around a corner.

Simon turns to Magnus. "What does she mean by the new leader's sister?"

Magnus has a grim expression on his face. "She's kind of her brother's now and she doesn't want us to get involved because she thinks her brother will kill us. And I seriously doubt that if we give him a reason he _won't_ kill us on the spot," Magnus says coolly.

"She's _kind of_ her brother's? She's his property now? And she's okay with that?" Simon asks.

"Apparently. She's doing it to protect us but there's something else. I can see it in her eyes, she's hiding something." Magnus pauses a moment. "She seems happier than she was in those rare moments when she's not confessing or being torn apart from the inside," Magnus says.

"What do you mean 'confessing?'?" Simon asks.

"She's done some things that she regrets, she told us yesterday but you were still in the prisons. We'll tell you if she wants but I think it best that she tell you what happened."

Simon purses his lips and knits his eyebrows, crossing his arms across his chest as he sees the little red head round a corner with another figure. Simon's expression smooth's over as Clary approaches.

Getting Luke out was as easy as Simon but with a little trouble. She stormed back into Jonathon's room, searching for her brother. She found no one so she walked back to the dungeon. She passed down one hall and caught a glimpse of white-blond. Upon seeing him she had flattened herself against the wall, waiting for him to move on. Rethinking the idea of getting Luke's location out of him, it's probably better if she do it herself. He still doesn't want her wandering around alone. Jonathon will just follow her like the watch dog he is or more likely, lock her in a room with him. She loves her brother but that is too much. She doesn't want him to find where her mother is either.

She poked her head around the corner and took off for the dungeon. She yelled at the guards, demanding they tell her where Lucian Greymark is. They told her and she bolted down the halls and opened the door the guards told her. Luke had thrown himself at Clary, like he was trying to pull her into a cloak to protect her.

Clary pulled away and hastily explained that she was okay and she was safe but that she needed to get Luke out. He had protested that _he _needed to get _her _out but Clary only smiled sadly, remember her precarious position with Jonathon and pulled Luke along down the corridor out the doors and into the city.

She walks him to Angel Square where Magnus and Simon look as though they are in deep, grim conversation but their expressions change to relief as they catch sight of her and Luke. Clary grins.

"Told you it had perks," she says and Simon envelops her in another hug. He holds her carefully, cherishing her presence and she knows what he and Magnus had talked about. She doesn't know if she can bear telling that story again.

"Magnus," she says over Simon's shoulder. "Cloaking spell please. So we can get these two home without my brother or his lackeys following me."

Luke looks at her with shock but Magnus nods his head and blue sparkles fall from his fingertips.

"Okay, we're good to go. I'm sure Isabelle and Jocelyn will be very surprised," Magnus says starting off towards the villa. Luke and Simon trail behind in something of a shock, probably trying to process Magnus and Clary's words. Simon never lets Clary's hand go as they weave through the streets and Luke keeps extremely close to Clary's side, his eyes darting around as they pass Shadowhunters who take no notice in them. Magnus's cloaking spell is working.

They quickly arrive at the villa, which only they can see and walk up the steps. Magnus pulls out a key and opens the door to the Lightwoods sitting on the couch with their heads in their hands and Jocelyn pacing back and forth. They all look up once the door swings open and Isabelle's face lights up. She bolts over to Simon and kisses him full on the mouth. Jocelyn walks over to Luke tentatively as if she is unsure if he's real or not but Luke pulls her into a hug and Jocelyn wraps her arms around him. She sobs, relieved into his shoulder. Clary takes a step back as the door closes behind her and she can hear a deadbolt sliding into place.

She keeps back in the shadows while her friends and mother rejoice in Simon and Luke's safe return. She smiles to herself, knowing the happiness she just brought her friend and mother. Simon and Isabelle are still kissing and Luke and her mother are whispering to each other while Magnus and Alec are sitting on the couch. She doesn't mind being forgotten, she's content to know her family is whole again. Except Jace. She wonders where he is now. Is he safe? Does he miss her? No, she can't let herself wonder these things because it will only cause her heart and mind to hurt more. She's just glad all her family now is together. She lets herself sit in the midst of all this joy and ponders the possibility of Jonathon being here right now. If he could actually enjoy the mood instead of ruining it with the snide remarks that are his armor.

She's noticed she is slowly chipping away at that armor, he's more open with her but whenever someone else talks to him his walls go back up and he is cruel and demanding. He's sweet to her though in the moments when she's broken through. Always using kind, caressing words and gentle movements, he makes her laugh too, in the most unexpected moments. In the first months after she gave herself over to him he had stayed with her at night, making her giggle with his ignorance. Once he had asked her what an iPod was and she had fallen into his lap, laughing hysterically after asking him if he was serious. He replied why wouldn't he be with a serious look on his face, she had buried her face in his torso while he had asked the reason for laughing. Eventually she had explained what it was and then Jonathon had dragged her under the covers and 'given her a real reason to giggle.'

She smiles at the memory as Luke and Jocelyn share what has happened, seeing as she was gone for three months from them. She doesn't want to explain her story again even if to Luke and Simon so she slides away quietly. She turns towards the door and opens it intending to leave but someone catches her shoulder and spins her around, pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you Clary. You don't know how much Simon's come to mean to me while you were gone. I don't think I can bear life without him anymore," Isabelle whispers in her ear.

"You're welcome Isabelle, I didn't think he liked it in my brother's dungeon," Clary says with a sad smile. A somber feeling has settled over Clary and she has the sudden urge to have her brother holding her. Isabelle is the only one who's seemed to notice Clary, with all the reunions. "Hey I should probably go. Best not provoke my brother twice in two days. Tell my mom hi for me."

Izzy holds tighter, not allowing Clary to slip out the door. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean we don't know everything your brother's done to you; I can see it in your eyes."

"You know Isabelle; aside from the other things he's actually been really kind to me. He needs me and he's trying his best to show it. He listens to me." She pauses then continues. "He originally wanted to kill most everyone, did you know that? I convinced him that if he kills all who oppose him he won't have anyone to rule later on." Upon Isabelle's slightly shocked look Clary explains, "I know it's cruel if you look at it that way but it's better than having my family killed before me when I've already lost so much. I'm with my brother to protect you guys but know this; that's beginning to not be the only reason. You don't have to give him a chance, honestly I still haven't forgiven him for what he did nor will I ever." Isabelle's body tightens at the memory of her brother. "But for me please try to be happy now, in this world. I can get Jonathon away from you guys. Trust me I know how to distract him… Lay low for a while because I can only control so much of him." Clary says grimly. " I love you guys."

With that she slips out of Isabelle's grip and out the door, unnoticed by the rest of the house residence. She wanders back to Angel Square and to the Gard. She doesn't enter just sits on the wide, stone, stair banister and watches the city go by. Sometime later the cloaking spell wears off but still she sits, processing her own words, said to Isabelle. She was going to say she's coming to love Jonathon but had refrained, knowing everything to them was still a shock. Though she looks in her heart, she sees that Jonathon now has a spot there, very small but it's growing. In a way she resents it, she still remembers the terrible things Jonathon has done and she can never forgive him for that but he needs someone. And she knows no one else can so it has fallen to her to love the demon of her brother.

She can't describe it but she can't help but love him. It's probably the angel in her, attracted to her demon counterpart. Jonathon is so broken that it will take some time for her to pick up the pieces and even then he won't be whole nor will he be any less of a demon. That is why she is here though, to balance that demon. She notices the sun beginning to set. This day has passed with confusion and realizations but she feels it wasted. Jonathon's gotten into the routine of keeping her attention in bed and other places but the last few days she hasn't really let him do anything except for this morning. She's felt too betrayed and angry at him to let him do otherwise, even earlier she shoved him off as soon as it was over. Sometimes being angry with her brother is very difficult, she can feel it weighing on her shoulders, trying to maintain so much anger. She finds herself squinting at the sunset, trying to commit details to memory to paint later.

Her concentration is broken when a black form stands in front of her on the banister. She looks up into Jonathon's stern face, looking down at her with annoyance. She looks up with a smile, causing Jonathon's severe look to falter and drop away at the sight of her smile. Her smile is one of drunken tiredness, like a clouded haze stripping away any energy she had to maintain her anger.

"Hey," she says.

"Hi. Where have you been?" Jonathon asks.

"Here most of the day."

Jonathon looks flustered. "Here most of the… what do you mean?"

"It means that I, myself, have been sitting here, on the Gard steps, for the majority of the day," Clary says still smiling, drowsily.

Jonathon sighs and lifts Clary off the banister, bringing her to stand. Clary is rather exhausted now, her muscles droop with fatigue and she leans into Jonathon, wrapping her arms around his chest like a little girl clinging to her brother. Well that is what she is, a tired little sister leaning on her big brother for support. Jonathon catches her before she can fall to the ground, she doesn't know why but it feels as though she is drunk. _Very_ drunk.

"Can we go inside?" she asks.

Jonathon's expression holds confusion but he nods and they walk inside, Jonathon having to pick Clary up due to the unsteadiness of her legs.

"Were you out drinking?" Jonathon asks as they enter their room and Jonathon sits down on the couch with Clary in his lap. Her head leans back against his chest and she closes her eyes while shaking her head.

"Nope, this is all me." Maybe that was a lie, she could've gotten a drink but not remembered. She can't be this senseless _without_ a drink. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," Jonathon says immediately.

She turns around in Jonathon's lap to face him and she looks into his beautiful black eyes. "Kiss me like you love me, if you even do," Clary says with a pout on her face. She runs her hand down his chest. She definitely drank something, she can't remember when but she doesn't feel like herself but yet she does. She knows what she's doing, maybe she's just finally given into herself and it feels amazing. It taunts her though; she can feel a pleasure lurking beneath the surface of her conscious, waiting for _something_ to release it. She just has to find that something.

Jonathon doesn't hesitate in bringing her lips to his, slowly moving it against her soft mouth. He trails his tongue on her lips and she grants him entrance as she moves her body closer against his, his hands gripping her waist. That pleasure sitting beneath the surface bubbles up now, not strong enough though, it still taunts her. She can feel his hesitation because of the oddity of her mood.

She pulls back. "You didn't mean it," she says knitting her eyebrows. Jonathon sighs and pulls her into a deep kiss and Clary moves against him, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. She feels the love and devotion radiate off him now, they warm her inside and pull at the lurking pleasure. They stay like that for what seems an eternity before Jonathon finally pulls away and whispers in her ear, "I have always loved you Clary and that will never change."

He pulls her back into a kiss and she slowly undoes the buttons on his shirtfront. The itching feel of pleasure builds as she feels Jonathon's want against her inner thigh. She smiles as Jonathon pulls off the unbuttoned shirt and works Clary's off. She runs her hands over his chest as he moves his hands down to her pants, pulling them off in one swift movement with Clary's help. He pulls back and raises an eyebrow as he pulls the knife from her belt, brandishing it for her to see. She smiles and says, "You expect me to go out in the city unarmed, especially with your lackeys running about."

Jonathon smiles and runs the blade into the wood table next to them, point first. He does the same with the blade he finds in her boot. The two blades gleam next to each other as Jonathon slips into her panties. He plays with her, rubbing her sweet spot as she moves to take off Jonathon's pants but he's already there withdrawing from her panties and his pants are gone within moments. He lies down, pulling her along with him so she lies on top of Jonathon. Before she can do anything else Jonathon strips them both of underwear and is inside her. He is slow and gentle and sweet, trying to communicate his love. She can feel it very much, that taunting pleasure now rolls across her skin like lava, making her body hot and slick to Jonathon's touch. Jonathon rolls his hips and she moans against his mouth. He sucks on her lip before moving down her neck, brushing his lips and teeth against the soft skin. Jonathon unclasps her bra and fondles her chest while thrusting into her. She bites back a scream of pleasure and Jonathon kisses her again.

Her drunken haze of pleasure clouds her senses and before she knows it she's screaming Jonathon's name as she falls down on top of him, still kissing her neck, whispering sweet nothing's in her ear as fatigue from nowhere grips her and she falls asleep, naked on top of Jonathon. The nagging pleasure slowly falling beneath the surface of her skin as she falls into the bliss of her brother.

_**Post reviews and comments. I'm not quite sure what I'll do the next few chapters so I'm open to suggestions. I actually use or draw form most of your suggestions. Making spin off ideas, they're very helpful.**_


	19. Home Sickness

_**I think I'll be doing only one more chapter before I do a bunch and I mean a bunch of epilogue chapters. I feel like doing the epilogue chapters because no one ever really does. Hope you like this chapter, nothing much really happens but it is one step closer to the end. Sorry but enjoy! ;) **_

Before she's fully conscious Clary knows where she is. She's on her brother, naked, and his warm skin feel soothing on hers. She braces her hands on his chest and pushes herself up. Her hair falls in a curtain down one side of her face as she looks at Jonathon whose eyes are slowly opening to focus on her. He smiles drowsily and pulls her back to kiss and a sweet euphoria spreads out in her chest. She wonders what it means. It could mean a multitude of things. She could be sick, she's not controlling the _beati_, she's still drunk, she's hung over… she could actually love her brother. If this is what full-fledged love for him feels like she will gladly love him utterly and completely.

That was simple, she loves her brother. She smiles against Jonathon's mouth and snakes her arms around his neck.

"Guess what, Jonathon?" She whispers against him.

His arms wrap around her waist and pull her against him. "What's that, love?"

"I love you with all my heart. Took me forever to realize it but I do," Clary says with a smile on her face. She really does, she loves Jonathon. That sounds nice, she thinks. I love Jonathon, she thinks to herself.

"That is the best thing I have ever heard, little sister. I love you too."

She hugs him for a few more moments, burying her face in his neck before she slips off and walks to the bathroom. In between her legs are sticky and her hair is tangled so she turns on the shower, stepping under the cool stream. She runs her hands with soap down between her legs and scrubs away the stickiness. She runs shampoo and conditioner through her tangled red curls. She leaves the conditioner in and ties her hair up while she lets the cool water run over her body, trying to sweep away the drunken haze.

Her wet hands running down her sides are met with new, strong ones. She closes her eyes and smiles as Jonathon's body presses up against hers from behind.

"May I not shower alone? Because I have a feeling with you in here I'll just get dirty again," Clary says letting her hair down to rinse out the conditioner.

"I just thought my little sister would be lonely," Jonathon says ducking his head down to kiss her neck.

"I'm sur - _nnh._" Jonathon has managed to snake his hand down toward her core and is now rubbing her sweet spot from behind.

She spins around and grabs his wrists, pulling them up to his chest. "I may love you but it's too early in the morning for that, especially after last night," she says and kisses him lightly on the lips, leaving him to shower alone.

She slips into the closet and into some jeans and a loose shirt. There is a quiet knock on the bedroom door and Clary crosses to open it. Her smile fades from her face as concern, shock, joy and horror cross it upon seeing Simon standing in the hallway.

"Simon? What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Clary says pulling Simon into a hug. "Do you realize what my brother might do if he finds you here? I can't control everything he does you know? Do you know how much trouble I am going through to protect you guys?"

Simon pulls back and gives Clary a hesitant smile. "Vampire speed and I just came to get the whole story. You bolted before I could ask yesterday. I wanted to thank you too but that goes without saying. Are you okay?"

"Simon…" Clary starts to say with a sigh.

"Clary tell me. I need to know. You're my best friend, I _need _to know."

Clary's wedged herself in between the door and the frame just in case Jonathon comes out into the bedroom.

"Simon I'm fine. Jonathon is making me happy. Trust me, please you need to leave. I'll come by later." Clary says desperation evident in her voice.

"He's making you happy?" He reaches up and pulls down her shirt collar. "Then what's this?" He asks, conviction dripping in his voice.

Clary closes her eyes in defeat as Simon glares at the brand on her collarbone. She shifts on her feet and opens her eyes again.

"Okay, I'm going to tell you out right but you can't freak out. Promise you won't freak out. Jonathon's changed, okay?" Clary looks at him pointedly.

Simon purses his lips but nods.

Clary takes a deep breath. "Jonathon used demon metal to carve his initials into my collarbone because I wouldn't behave. I didn't want him to but he chained me to a wall then said that I needed a reminder of who I belonged to. It barely hurts Simon, don't freak out about it. Jonathon's changed he would never to it to me now. I'm fixing him as much as I can Simon, don't worry about me, let me do this. Let me help you and my brother. Simon, he needs me."

"That's right," Jonathon says from behind her. His tone is calm so he must not see Simon but he walks up to her back and places a hand on her hip. He leans an arm on the door and Clary can feel he's in nothing but a towel. Simon's face tightens and his muscles tense, getting ready to bolt. Jonathon's body presses against hers and she can feel Jonathon's gesture is to flaunt his possession of her.

"Jonathon…" Clary cautions but Jonathon's grip tightens and he cuts her off.

"Daylighter, care to tell me how you got into our palace and why you are talking to my sister?" Jonathon says.

Simon sets his face with stony determination and Clary is proud of her friend for not showing fear in her brother. "I've come to talk to my lifelong friend who was taken and held captive for seven months. Excuse me for checking on her wellbeing, especially in your company." Simon glares at her brother and she can feel him tense behind her. She moves before he can. She spins around and places her hands on Jonathon's chest.

"Jonathon look at me," Clary says quickly. Jonathon's fiery gaze flicks down to Clary and immediately softens. "You have to promise me right now that you will not hurt my friends at least for now. Do you understand? Do this for me, please." Jonathon looks back at Simon but Clary grabs his chin and turns his eyes back to her. "Not for him Jonathon, for me. Promise."

Jonathon purses his lips and looks back to Simon but she moves to block his view so he has no choice to but to look at her. Finally he sighs and leans down to kiss her. "I promise Clary, but you," he snaps his gaze back to Simon who is in somewhat of a shock. "Get out before I throw you back in the dungeon." Jonathon whistles and two demon Shadowhunters materialize from the shadows. Before they can touch Simon, Clary shouts, "No," she grabs Simon's arm. "I'll walk him out."

Jonathon's face flashes with disapproval.

"One hour okay? That's all I need. I'll be back in an hour, promise. See?" Clary holds up her watch and sets the timer for an hour. "If I'm not back in an hour you're welcome to lock me in a room when I get back because I _will_ be back."

"Fine but I'm dragging you out of that villa if you're not back in an hour," Jonathon says.

How did he know it was a villa? Clary smiles and gives Jonathon a chaste kiss before turning around and pulling Simon through the guards and the front doors. Heading towards the villa Simon doesn't say a word but once they reach the door to the villa Simon stops her before reaching the door handle.

"I want the whole thing right now, all of it. Don't spare me gory details. The sooner I know the sooner I can get over the fact that Jonathon now has you in the palm of his hand." Simon settles his hands on her shoulders and looks at her pointedly, trying to draw the information out.

"Simon I don't know…" Clary begins.

"Just tell me," Simon voice is so full of desperation and pain that Clary cracks. She tells him all of it. And she means _all_ of it, good and bad but spared most of the details of the nights. Just the major things like Valentine, the kidnapping, the dungeons, Jonathon changing, his love towards her, the demon blood, how he took care of her. Simon's expression changes from horror to amazement to sympathy. She doesn't want the sympathy, she doesn't need it, she could have used sympathy six months ago but no one was there so she had to swallow it and take what Jonathon gave her.

Something occurs to her, she didn't even tell her mother about Valentine. She didn't want her to know that the horrible man that was her husband had come back from the dead only to torture her daughter. Simon as always is her confidant, she told him everything. Once she realizes this she grabs his shoulders tightly.

"Oh my god, Simon do _not _tell my mom about Valentine. Do you understand me? Whatever you do, you _do not_ tell her." She stares determinedly at Simon, begging him to keep the secret.

"Clary she needs to know," Simon says.

"Yes but not now. She just got me back and Luke, she doesn't need to know that my father tortured me." Clary's watch beeps, signaling the hour. "Promise me. I would at least like to give my mom a week of something happy adjacent. Please."

Simon nods and Clary kisses him on the cheek. "Don't ever break into the Gard again. Not until the whole control freak with my brother blows over. If you do I'll throw you in the dungeons myself," Clary says with one last hug and bolts away, heading towards the Gard. She turns a corner and sees Jonathon heading down the front steps with an accompaniment of guards. She rolls her eyes and brushes past the guards, deliberately bumping into Jonathon and heading inside.

"I told you an hour Jonathon. Do I have a curfew now?" Clary calls good humoredly behind her. Jonathon is next to her within seconds and scoops her up off the ground. She smiles and kisses his cheek.

"Yes, you have a curfew. Especially when I have things I want to do with you." He smiles and kisses back. He's oddly good tempered about her coming back late. Usually he would be freaking out and locking her in a room.

"Oh and what do you want to do with me?"

"Too many dirty things to be said in public," Jonathon whispers.

"Then why are we still in public?" Clary asks.

Jonathon sighs with great effort. "Because we have a party to plan for Saturday."

"What party?" Clary asks knitting her eyebrows and looking at Jonathon's grinning face as he carries her down an unfamiliar hall and into a library.

"Call it a 'meet your new king and queen' party," Jonathon says.

Clary hangs her head back and groans. "You know I hate parties."

Jonathon kisses her exposed neck and sets her down.

"Yes but this is the only one I'm forcing you to go to," Jonathon says.

"But…"

"No 'buts' little sister. The party is happening and you're going. That's that. C'mere."

He waves his arm at her, calling her over to a table with papers strewn about on it. Clary trudges over and dives into the planning of a ridiculous ball with her brother. They rush about for the next two days, Jonathon yelling at servants to hurry with their projects like getting the glass runes hung and the food made in the kitchens. Clary goes around and prompts the servants with kindness instead of yelling and frustration like her brother. Just like at the manor she manages to befriend most of the servants at the Gard. Whenever Jonathon is off planning some different aspect of the ball and is not with Clary he has two guards trailing her about the Gard. They become quite a nuisance but she learned to ignore them after a few hours. Catalyn came over from the manor some time ago and she is a constant companion, chatting with Clary on the color of gown Jonathon's making her wear.

Jonathon didn't let Clary see Simon or her mother the two days the party was being planned but Clary sent Catalyn out with the message that they are under her protection and welcome to come if they want to have a little fun or maybe let loose. She said they didn't have to come and she would visit after the ball. Isabelle sent back that she, Simon, Alec and Magnus were going to come but Luke and Jocelyn were staying back at the villa. Clary doesn't blame her mother for not wanting to come.

She'll visit her when the ball is over and she has a moment alone. For now she'll distract herself with the party and the planning and Catalyn but most of all her brother. The two nights in between the party she melts under her brother, letting him play with her, unravel her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She revels in the feeling, pure love for her brother. She's finally accepted it whole heartedly, no reservations. She lets it wash over her at night while her brother pours his devotion and love into her and she returns his love.

Saturday morning comes and Clary wakes next to her brother who has her wrapped in his arms with the covers haphazardly tossed over the two of them. Clary groans and buries her face in her brother's chest. Jonathon pulls her tighter and kisses her head, his breath warm against her flaming curls.

"Morning," Jonathon says into her hair.

"Morning." Clary runs her hands over Jonathon's naked chest. "What are we going to do until the sun sets?" Clary asks. The ball isn't supposed to start until dusk because of the vampire guests and she was going to go visit her family even if it means sneaking out because Jonathon's had her on lock down for the last two days. She needs to see when it's possible to make her escape.

"Well I was thinking we could go out on a date," Jonathon says.

Clary looks up at her brother in disbelief. "A date? Like go to the movies, 'yawn and slip your arm over her shoulder' date?"

Jonathon chuckles. "More like 'take you on a picnic in Brocilend Plain and have an epic make out in the grass' date."

Clary raises her eyebrows. "Well, that sounds _so_ much better but I'm guessing I don't have much of a choice. Am I right?" Clary asks slipping out of bed and into the bathroom. Jonathon follows her and turns on the shower.

"You, little sister, are correct," Jonathon says pulling her into the shower with him.

Jonathon and Clary wash quickly but Clary beats her brother and steps out first, toweling herself off. She walks to her closet and pulls on some shorts, looking out at the blazing hot summer day in Alicante. She pulls on a loose short sleeve shirt the color of peaches. She grabs some tennis shoes and laces them up. Walking out of her closet she's grabbed by the waist and swung into Jonathon's arms. She shrieks with laughter as Jonathon sets her down and kisses her.

When Jonathon pulls back she says, "You still haven't asked yet." She smiles at Jonathon's confusion.

"Asked what?"

"Asked me out."

"Oh well, I can easily take care of that." He pulls back and holds both of her hands. "Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, will you go out with your dear brother, your dear lonely brother who only wants the attentions of his sister." Jonathon's face resembles that of a puppy begging for food.

Clary smiles and leans her head back, thinking. "Well, I am hungry and your puppy dog eyes are rather cute. So I guess I will go out for a picnic with you," Clary says and Jonathon pulls her into another kiss.

"Great let's go," Jonathon says and grabs a stele from the bedside table. "Would you be a dear and draw a Portal?"

Clary shrugs and draws a Portal rune. Jonathon steps through with her and they are now standing on a grassy plain. A soft blanket is laid out before them with wine glasses, wine bottle and a picnic basket.

"We're getting drunk before the party, are we? Well I do need to be drunk if I'm going to get through this ball," Clary says as she sits down on the soft blanket and Jonathon sits beside her.

"More so you're easier to play with," Jonathon says, pouring both of them a glass of white wine. Clary shrugs, knocks hers back and set the glass down. She really is not looking forward to the ball tonight so she would rather be slightly loose than fully coherent and having to deal with petty Shadowhunters congratulating her on her new role as Queen of Idris, Shadowhunters, Downworlders, etc., etc. She leans back against the blanket and watches the clouds fly across the sky. She can see the outlines of Alicante in the hills maybe an hour away; she watches the sun glint off the demon towers, rising in the sky like silver, fountain pen tips. She can imagine black ink leaking into the blue sky and swirling around to make different runes and pictures in the blue canvas.

Jonathon lies down next to her and pulls her up against his body. The wine has fuzzed the edges of her vision but it feels different form the haze of last night. The wine is warm through her body and Jonathon's arm makes the warmth spread as her body molds to his. He stares up at the sky with her for a moment before handing her the wine glass again, now refilled. She takes it and looks over at Jonathon.

"How drunk do you want me?" Clary asks as she takes a sip of the wine.

"Only as drunk as me," Jonathon says, kissing Clary's forehead.

"So we're talking all 'night rager and killer hangover' drunk. Right?"

Jonathon chuckles. "Sure."

Jonathon and Clary lay there for a few hours, drinking wine and chewing on the contents of the picnic basket, which consists of sandwiches and grapes and chocolate. Somewhere in the middle Clary dozes off in Jonathon's arms and wakes up looking into his face. Jonathon's on top of her, smiling like a frat boy after a party. Clary raises her eyebrows and Jonathon's response is dipping down to kiss her. He tastes like wine and chocolate.

His hands slip under her shirt and run along her side. Jonathon must be substantially drunk because his movements are sloppy but still hold a grace to them. Clary has seen him down five glasses of wine and still appear completely sober but to have his movements hindered slightly, well, that's a lot of wine. Clary wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. Their lower bodies are flush with each other while Jonathon straddles her hips and works her shirt up her torso. Jonathon pulls back and moves down her neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. Clary arches her back into him as Jonathon reaches his hand down into her pants, slipping past the cotton panties and kneading her sweet spot until she's panting. Jonathon moves back up to her mouth and envelops her in another chocolaty, wine tainted kiss. A thin sheen of sweat covers her body now and Clary's hand dips down Jonathon's collar to skim his muscled back.

Jonathon withdraws his hand just as her pleasure twists in her stomach and moves his mouth back down her chest. Clary smiles and laughs slightly, opening her eyes to the darkening sky.

"You're such a tease," Clary says as Jonathon sucks her her neck. He smiles against it as his hands grip her waist.

"Don't want to give the whole show before we get to bed. Now do I?" Jonathon says against her skin.

"I suppose not," Clary says. Jonathon slips off of her and hauls her off the ground. Neither are drunk enough to limit their movement, due to both of their extreme Shadowhunter skills. Jonathon whistles and a black stallion and grey mare come galloping from behind a hill. They're already saddled. Clary looks to Jonathon who has a grin on his face as the black stallion and mare come to a halt in front of them.

"We, little sister, are going to have a race back to Alicante," Jonathon says.

Clary walks up to the grey mare and strokes its mane. She smiles into the mare. "And what do I get when I win?" Clary asks.

"When? Confident are we? Well _if _you win, your family gets a full pardon; they're welcome to come live in the Gard with us or different villas in the city. I swear it by the Angel. Either way I won't bother them…" Jonathon doesn't get a chance to finish. Clary is already up on the mare and racing towards Alicante. She hears Jonathon curse behind her and mount his stallion. She grins; she'd love to give her family a chance to go back to New York even if she can't. She rides for what feels about an hour until she can see the city in the horizon and she's nearing the border. She glances back and sees Jonathon a distance behind her but she urges her mare faster and she bursts into the streets of Alicante. She knows she won but just to make sure Jonathon can't find a loop hole she races her mare towards the Gard and gallops up the stairs. She dismounts and grins smugly, running her hand over the mare's sweaty mane. She waits, soothing her mare for a few minutes until she sees Jonathon and his black stallion round a corner and bolt up the hill. His shoulders slump but a smile creeps across his face as he slows the stallion and urges it up the stairs like hers.

She's still wiping down the mare, who is panting but otherwise seems happy to have Clary pet her. The mare nudges her arm and sniffs her torso. Jonathon dismounts behind her and she says, "I win. Can't wait to tell them. I wonder what kind of villa they'll choose."

"Yeah don't rub it in little sister. I'm still older than you," Jonathon says waving his arm for the stable boy, who mysteriously pops out of the Gard and takes the reins of their horses and leads them off to the stables.

"Oh, after all this time you're finally playing the 'I'm older than you card.' That's new Jonathon," Clary says with a smile.

"Well I'm running out of cards because you're stealing them all. Now go get dressed the ball is going to start in less than an hour," Jonathon says pointing off towards their rooms. "I'll be there in a minute."

Clary squints at Jonathon, trying to think about what Jonathon will be doing in a minute but Clary turns towards their rooms and walks down the hall. At their rooms she finds her gown lain out on the bed. It's a flowing piece of black satin, splashed with a dark blue slash across the front. She slips into the bathroom and quickly washes off the smell of grass and wine and horses. After she dries herself she drops the towel and lathers coconut lotion up and down her body. She brushes her hair and braids it to the side in a fishtail. She applies black eyeliner and a light shade of blue eye shadow.

"That is a lovely color," Jonathon says from the doorway.

"I know that's why I'm wearing it," Clary says. She notices a snap in her voice and she doesn't mean for it to be there. She frowns at herself in the mirror, probably the alcohol.

"No need to be snappy," Jonathon says pushing off from the door frame.

"I'm not, I'm drunk remember? And I'm going to a party where a bunch of people are going to grovel over me. You're drunk too so don't get all judgmental about it," Clary says. She really isn't looking forward to the loyal demon Shadowhunters groveling at her feet or the ones forced into submission glaring at her. The only thing she is looking forward to is seeing Isabelle, Simon, Alec and Magnus tonight. Then sneaking away after the ball to go see her mom. She's still working on how she'll get away. Jonathon wants to play with her tonight so she can't leave directly after the ball because Jonathon will be waiting for her. Maybe after Jonathon falls asleep but then her mother will probably be asleep.

She might have to wait until tomorrow afternoon to go she her. She also can't wait to tell them that Jonathon has completely pardoned them and won't ever have to worry about him bothering them. Her mother and Luke can go back to New York or move into a country side manor or a villa here. Same with Izzy and Simon and Alec and Magnus. She won't blame them if they all leave. If she were them she wouldn't want to stay in Jonathon's capital either but she's not them and she hopes at least one of them will stay so she isn't left alone with Jonathon. She wouldn't mind to be alone with just Jonathon but she would get lonely without at least one of her family members staying.

She realizes she's been frowning at the mirror and Jonathon is frowning at her.

"Are you okay?"

Clary shakes her head and says, "Yeah." She walks into the bedroom and slips into the black dress. She walks over to the bathroom again to see Jonathon wrapping a towel around his waist. Clary's head is starting to hurt; she shouldn't have drunken so much. She's starting to get a night hangover.

"Can you zip me up please?" Clary says turning around as Jonathon moves toward her and zips up the back of the dress. He kisses her cheek.

"You sure you're okay?" Jonathon asks.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a light weight," Clary says with a smile. The headache fades in and out and so does her temperature. She brushes aside the effects of the alcohol and lies down on the bed for a moment, closing her eyes to the warmly lit ceiling. She hears Jonathon walking out of the bedroom and moving towards his closet. She can also feel the heat of his concerned eyes before he closes his door and she hears rustling while Jonathon pulls his suit on.

The bed sinks as Jonathon lies down next to her. He brushes a curl from her face and gently caresses her cheek.

"Come on little sister. It'll only be a few hours then we'll come back here and do whatever you want. Okay?" Jonathon says from next to her.

"I guess," Clary says hauling herself off the bed, Jonathon close behind.

The headache rushes in and slams against her temples. She falters and staggers back. Jonathon catches her before she can fall to the ground. His mouth is a tight line as he reaches behind him and pulls out his stele.

"At least let me put an _iratze_ on you. Take away the hangover," Jonathon says.

Clary nods quickly and Jonathon sketches an _iratze _on her inner wrist and her headache fades away completely but she still feels sick. The headache gone she finally notices a knot of pain has collected at the base of her spine and her whole body is slow and sensitive. The headache though was the only thing impairing her movement, so even though she doesn't feel the greatest, with Jonathon thinking she's fine now he takes her arm and walks her out the door and down the hall to the main ballroom.

They walk through giant oak doors to a crowd of finely dressed Shadowhunters and Downworlders dancing to the orchestra in the back corner. The glass rune sculptures that Jonathon had commissioned for her because of her ability are stationed at intervals around the border of the room. The lights are warm and spread across the ceiling, reflecting across the glass. The Shadowhunters and Downworlders that see them emerge from behind the dais bow or curtsey. A groan builds in her throat but she pushes it back down as Jonathon and her melt into the crowd.

Clary plasters a fake smile on her face as they glide through the crowds, greeting people and making small talk with various Shadowhunters, demon Shadowhunters and Downworlders. The Downworlders seem content to be here, in the Shadowhunter capital, treated as equals. Even the fairies have come out to the ball, the pixies in short cut colorful dresses with their hair flowing down their shoulders like rivers. The lycanthropes have more simple primitive wear on. Simple plain dresses and noting fancy in their hair, no make-up. The vampires are a whole different concept; they're all dressed in grand Renaissance dresses and suits. Great ball gowns and white powdered faces. Well, Clary thinks it's just their normal pallor, not powder. Which reminds her, Clary looks around for Simon, Isabelle, Magnus or Alec. She scans the crowd but finds no one. The sick knot in her spine intensifies and her fake smile falters.

Jonathon notices and leans down to whisper in her ear. "Are you okay?"

Clary nods but Jonathon pulls her closer. "You're a terrible liar. Only another hour before the vampires have to leave then everyone else will leave shortly after," Jonathon says, then turns his attention back to a pair of werewolves who are chatting happily at the newly established equality. The knot only tightens but she doesn't let it show. They've been wandering around for quite a few hours talking to various people and creatures. Earlier on the dais Jonathon had both of them sit on the the thrones with servants coming out to place crowns on their heads. It rather disgusted Clary and she was thankful that her family and friends weren't here to see it. Now Clary walks around with a small silver tiara with embedded blue gems paced in the entwined golden bands. Jonathon's is a small band of gold embedded with green gems that rests on his white blond hair like he was born with it there. Clary finds hers rather a nuisance but she leaves it on for Jonathon. Then after that the walls blasted some party club music and the werewolves and non-Renaissance vampires, which are at least half, took the dance floor and partied like animals. She and Jonathon joined them for a few minutes and caught up on the moment, swinging their hips, smiles on their faces Jonathon pulled her close and gave her a deep, passionate, powerful kiss. After that Jonathon pulled them both off and he talked with her for a minute about the ancient warlocks here, some of them are even older than Magnus but then went off to go talk with the older vampires that Jonathon wanted on his Council because of their connections, same with the warlocks.

They only have an hour left and Simon hasn't come yet, neither has Isabelle or Alec or Magnus. They can't have left already, could they? Without telling her? Her mother would leave her alone after losing her for over half a year? The knot twists and turns on her spine until she can't take it anymore. She slips out of Jonathon's grasp and weaves through the crowd. She keeps her head down and avoids the people trying to pull her into useless conversation until she bumps into a woman with a sleek black dress on. She looks up to apologize but finds Isabelle grinning at her. Clary sucks in a breath and wraps her friend in a hug. The knot at her spine lessens considerably as Isabelle pulls away with a smile.

"Isabelle! I thought you guys wouldn't come!" Clary says as her eyes land on Simon who moves around Izzy to hug Clary.

"Why wouldn't we come?" Simon asks into her hair.

Clary raises her eyebrows once Simon pulls back. "Oh yeah, right. Nice jewelry," Simon says with a sheepish smile.

Clary's hand flies to her head to feel the warm metal resting on her brow. "Thanks. I don't really like it. You know the whole forced into being queen thing but can we not talk about it?"

"Yeah sure," Simon says.

"Where are Alec and Magnus?" Clary asks changing the subject and glancing around the ballroom for the signature sparkly warlock.

"Well when we came in, Alec said something about not being able to stomach this without alcohol and Magnus agreed. So I assume they're somewhere getting drunk. I don't blame them either. If I ran into your brother I'd want to be…" Isabelle's words slow down and stop all together as her gaze travels behind Clary and her dark brown eyes widen. Clary knits her eyebrows and turns around to find her brother glaring at Isabelle but his gaze doesn't hold a threat towards her just something like jealousy.

He moves his gaze to fix on Clary. "You ran off. Do you need something?" Jonathon asks.

"No actually, I… I feel much better but can I have some private time with Izzy and Simon?"

Clary can feel Isabelle tense behind her and Jonathon notices a smile creeps up on his face. "No."

"But…"

"Clary you won the bet, why would they have to be scared of me. You should tell them because poor little Izzy here is white as a sheet of paper," Jonathon says, the smirk still evident in his face.

"What bet?" Izzy asks, placing a hand on Clary's shoulder to turn her around. Clary internally groans she was going to wait to tell them, with time and space to celebrate and be happy. Not with her brother looming over them, brooding at his defeat.

"Jonathon challenged me to a horse race back to the city and if I won he wouldn't ever bother you guys again. That you're free to go back to New York or pick out your own country side house or villa and no one will bother you," Clary says but as the words leave her lips the sick knot twists harshly on her spine and Jonathon notices her body tensing. Stepping up behind her and placing a hand on her waist he pulls her into him so her back is supported on his abdomen.

Isabelle barely notices the gesture as her face lights up with joy. "Really? We can go back to New York?"

Clary smiles and nods. "Yeah. So when do you guys think you'll be heading back?"

"I…I don't know I have to go find Alec and tell him but our parents I need to find them too." Izzy spins around and races into the crowd dragging Simon behind her. Though Simon doesn't seem nearly as enthusiastic about it. His face is scrunched with concentration as he studies Clary while being dragged into the mob of people in search of Izzy's brother.

A feeling resembling loneliness settles next to the knot in her spine and her body naturally turns into Jonathon's so she rests her cheek on his chest. She wraps her arms around him and he smooth's her hair down, kissing her head.

"Hey, I won't leave you. You know that, I'll always be here," Jonathon says. How can he know what she's feeling? Does he know her that well? That's sad that her brother who she's only known for over a year and has spent less time with knows her better than her own friends. Clary tries to hold back tears, unwarranted as they may be she wants to let them fall. If she lets them fall she feels they might drag away her sickness with them but she doesn't want to cry in public, even if the rest of these people are sickening enough to make her want to cry for a whole other reason.

Jonathon runs a hand down her back. "Come on, let's go get you some food," he says. Clary pulls away from her brother and smiles up at him. She's happy he at least cares about her. Wait, when did it come to that? Her brother being the only one who cares. Clary takes a deep breath and nods. Jonathon takes her hand and leads her to the side of the hall where tables of food are set up buffet style. Clary feels very bland inside, that on top of the sick knot and she just wants to go to bed, maybe never crawl out of the sheets again. She's figured out what that knot is. It's her fear of being left alone again. Now that she's seen her family again she doesn't want them to leave her. Sure she has Jonathon and he has soothed her and kept her company for almost a year but sometimes you can't replace the love of a mother or a lifelong best friend.

Jonathon grabs a small plate and stacks it with strawberries and cheeses. He walks them over to the sitting tables along the wall and sits them down at the head of them. Jonathon sets the plate down in front of her and looks on with concern.

"Eat," he says. All his attention is focused on her, not on the Shadowhunters or Downworlders milling about but his black eyes are centered on her and nothing else. He grabs a piece of cheese, holds it up for her to see and pops it in his mouth. Clary smiles a little and picks up a strawberry, taking a bite she stares back at Jonathon.

Jonathon smiles back now that she's eating and picks up another slice of cheese.

"So what are you going to do now that you've got me and the world?" Clary asks, picking up another strawberry.

Jonathon looks around at his new subjects, taking in the sheer mass of them and turns back to Clary. "Live a life, I guess. Rule as king with you at my side as queen."

"Joy, so we get to manage the entirety of the Shadow world. Live here for the rest of my life. No offense but that sounds kind of boring," Clary says.

Jonathon shrugs. "Running a world can be very exciting. Plus we wouldn't stay here the whole time we would go around and check on the major Institutes."

Clary perks up, travelling the world. She's always wanted to see Paris and Moscow. Architecture and art capitals of the world. When they go she'll make sure to bring her sketch book and all the types of pencils she can think of. "Where would we go first?"

His black eyes light with mischief. "I was thinking we could start at the Paris Institute. I figured you would like it, art capital of the world and all."

Clary's smile turns from fake to actual happiness as she thinks of visiting the Louvre. She turns to look out at the crowd and sees Isabelle jumping up and down excitedly, telling a _very_ drunk Alec and Magnus about the bet Clary won. Simon stands a little ways back but still seems happy, a sweet smile on his face as he watches Isabelle try and get the message through the drunken stupor her brother is in.

Isabelle eventually drags Alec and Magnus stumbling out the front doors. Simon looks back and catches her eyes, he smiles as if to say he'll come back before he's yanked out the door and down the stone stairs.

Jonathon and she spend the next hour discussing where they're going to travel for the next couple weeks. Going to a major Institute for a few days, sight see, then come back here to Portal off to a new one. The sky starts to lighten and all the vampires scramble from the hall as fast as their vampire legs can take them, which is considerably fast. The werewolves leave soon after, most of them leaning on each other, drunk. The warlocks all file out randomly, talking with the werewolves or Shadowhunters. All the fairies just kind of disappear in the blink of an eye. The rest of the Shadowhunters leave with the dawn and the Gard servants come in to clean everything up. The glass rune sculptures are to be left in this hall for show.

Clary's eyes droop by this point and she leans into Jonathon. At some time he pulled her into his lap and now holds her in his arms walking back to their rooms. That sick knot has only gotten stronger as the night wore on into morning and Clary clings to Jonathon, burying her face against the light in Jonathon's neck. Jonathon sets her down on top of the comforter and she rolls over to bury her face in the pillows, the early morning sun blazing through the windows. Jonathon walks over to them and draws the blackout curtains so the only light in the room is from the crown moldings but Jonathon flips the switch to turn those off and the room is in complete darkness.

On her stomach Clary's zipper is exposed and Jonathon slides it down her back then removes her dress and shoes. She crawls under the covers and lays her head on the soft pillow. She listens to the rustle of Jonathon removing his suit and as he slides into the sheets with a sigh of contentment as he settles into the soft cushions, pulling Clary into him. Both of them are too tired to mess around despite their both in nothing but underwear. Clary drops off immediately to the steady sound of Jonathon's beating heart but still plagued with the ugly, painful knot on her spine. She'll go talk to them tomorrow or maybe the next day seeing as she'll be sleeping the entire day today. Her mind drags her toward sleep as she thinks to herself if she should even bother going to see them, they don't seem to need her anymore. They'll be gone by tonight.

_**Post a review or comment! ;)**_

**_I know the ending is kind of sad but now she completely relies on Jonathon. This is now my longest chapter, over 7,000 words! I feel so proud but it's one of those chapters that my mind just kind of vomits thoughts and words then I go through and edit them. Oh well, I'm going on vacation so I won't update for a while but I might surprise you. Just a heads up though. I love all of you for reading this story. Thanks!_**


	20. Final Bliss

_**Surprise! It's the end of the story... well not really. I'm going to write a couple epilogue chapters but not until next week. Goign on vacation. You know how much I love you guys? My flight is at 5:30 am tomorrow and I'm taking precious sleeping time away just to get this posted. :/ Oh well enjoy! Hope this will last you until the epilogue. It was kind of physically painful to write this chapter and end my story. You know?**_

Jonathon hears a light tap on the door that pulls him from the warm, pleasant sleep he fell into with his sister tucked under his arm. He is going to skin the servant outside his door if this is anything short of the Gard on fire. Either way he hauls himself out of bed, careful not to disturb his sister and walks over to the door. Clary has him concerned; he can see the loneliness that grips her heart even with him next to her. He's trying to fix it, Angel is he trying, he hates seeing her in pain of any kind but all he can do now is keep her company, now she thinks her family has abandoned her, try to be her family. Try to distract her, love her, he won't ever abandon her, ever. Like their mother when she took that sleeping potion and left her to deal with the new world alone. When that werewolf shoved her away even when she needed him. He'll be her family now and no one can change that.

He pulls open the door, glaring at the offender who woke him from his rather peaceful and pleasant sleep. Ever since he got Clary he hasn't gotten enough of it. Before she came to him he was always plagued with horrible nightmares or left to float in darkness. With Clary he actually dreams now, of her. A lanky, scrawny Shadowhunter stands in the bright hallway. Jonathon doesn't squint against the light but it still hurts slightly coming from a pitch black bedroom.

"What," Jonathon snaps, glaring down at the small, sandy haired man.

"Sir, the Council wanted to call a meeting at your earliest convenience. They want to lay out land claims," the scrawny man says. His voice is steady but his body quivers slightly, seeing Jonathon's annoyance.

"Well tell them my earliest convenience is when I so choose it to be," Jonathon snaps. "Knock on this door again, I will hang you by your toes and watch you…" Jonathon stops his rant as small arms wrap around his waist and Clary's warm cheek rests on his back.

"Don't be mean Jonathon," Clary says drowsily. Jonathon makes sure to block his sister's mostly naked body from the view of this Shadowhunter.

"Angel, go back to bed," Jonathon says his voice softening immediately. She shouldn't be up; she needs the sleep especially after the pain that was evident in her stance last night. It's evident now as Clary grips Jonathon tightly for support. He puts an arm around her waist to further support her body leaning heavily on him.

"In a minute," Clary says still mostly asleep. "Come back later, Sam."

Jonathon is surprised she knows this Shadowhunter's name but then again she knew all the names of the servants at the manor. Sam bows and scurries down the hall. Jonathon closes the door and scoops Clary up before she can collapse, carrying her back to the bed while her head lulls against his chest and she wraps her arms around his neck. Jonathon glances at the clock and the green lights blink _9:14 a.m_. They went to bed around five in the morning so they probably won't be getting up until later this evening.

Jonathon slips back into bed and he settles Clary down next to him with her legs entwined with his. Clary goes back to sleep within two minutes and Jonathon stays awake a little longer, trying to sort out what territory he should give to the vampires but lets it slip and he fades back to sleep.

Clary's dreams swirl endlessly. She's running down a long hall chasing after her mother but every time she gets close and she can see a flash of crimson red hair it disappears again. Then she turns a corner and runs into Simon who takes her by the shoulders and says, "I never want to see you again." He dissipates into smoke and the scene changes. She is standing alone in a foggy field and a painful loneliness grips her stomach and she sinks to her knees on the wet grass.

"No one's coming," she whispers. "No one's left." The fog shifts around her and engulfs her. She hears the whispered words, echoing in the fog. "No one."

Clary sits bolt upright with a gasp, looking around into blackness instead of the gray fog. The gray fog gripping her throat and whispering the abandonment of her family. That she is utterly alone… but that's not true she has Jonathon. He won't leave, her brother won't leave her. Looking over at the green clock she sees it blinking _6:49 p.m._ She sees that Jonathon removed their crowns from last night and hers lies propped against his own on the nightstand next to the clock. She feels Jonathon's hand run down her back as he sits up and pulls her back into his embrace. He kisses her head, her cheeks, her throat, her jaw, soothing her, whispering, "I'm here Clary. I won't leave."

Clary turns her face into Jonathon and hugs him tightly. "How?" Clary murmurs miserably into him.

"You talk in your sleep, angel," Jonathon says pulling her closer.

"Nice to know," Clary mutters. All drowsiness has worn away, replaced by that terrible knot but Jonathon seems to soothe it as his hands run up and down her body. The knot fades into almost nothingness but still persists at its presence being known. Jonathon kisses her cheek.

"Come on, angel. We have some meetings to attend," he says getting out of bed and gingerly taking her with him. He sets her down on the carpeted floor and keeps an arm on her waist.

"What? About where the vampires get to hunt? I think I'd rather stay in bed." Clary moves back to the bed but Jonathon swings Clary up on his shoulder.

"Not an option little sister. You and I had a good thirteen hours in that bed and all we did was sleep. Besides I have a meeting I think you'll want to attend," Jonathon says carrying her towards the bathroom. He sets her down only to find her glaring at him.

"I don't think there is any meeting I would want to attend," Clary says while stepping into the shower. Jonathon steps in after her, removing her panties and bra and his boxers. "No funny business Jonathon. I just want a shower right now," Clary says dipping her face under the stream of water to wash off her makeup and douse her hair, patiently unbraiding it.

"You're so unfair," Jonathon complains but all he does in response is kiss her cheek and use the second shower head to wash himself off. Clary finishes and steps out, wrapping herself in a towel and walking over to the windows, flinging back the blackout curtains to see the sun setting on the Glass City. Jonathon's dragging her to a meeting, which means she can't visit her family today. Not that they want to see her.

She turns around and makes her way to her closet and pulls on some sweat pants and a sweat shirt knowing full well that she is either going back to bed in a few hours or sitting at boring ass meetings all night. She might as well be comfortable.

Back in the bedroom she sees Jonathon in cotton pants and an Idris sweat shirt. He looks good in a sweat shirt. She can see the hints of muscle outlined under the bulky fabric, the blue of it shimmers under the dying afternoon light. Clary's hair is tied back in a messy bun with stray curls hanging down in her face and Jonathon's hair is tousled which makes him look as though he's a college frat boy woken up from a party, and a very handsome frat boy at that.

"You're very fluffy," Jonathon says taking her hand while handing her a pair of heavy boots that match his.

"So are you. That sweat shirt compliments you," she says putting on the boots. She and Jonathon walk out into the dim hall. His warm fingers are laced with hers and he doesn't seem to be in a hurry so they mosey down the hall in a comfortable silence until they come to a corridor with multiple sets of giant, oaken, double doors. Jonathon stops them in front of the first one on the left.

"This is the meeting hall for you and I'll be down the hall in another one with a bunch of vampires, werewolves, warlocks and maybe some fairies," Jonathon says kissing her forehead. "Guards are stationed inside the room and some will come take up positions, here, outside the doors. I'll probably be a few hours so you can do whatever but you're not allowed to leave the Gard. Understand? The guards have orders not to let you out so don't try and convince them otherwise."

Clary nods, she doesn't really see why she would want to leave the Gard any way. All her family is probably back in New York by now. "See you later then," she says quietly but sends Jonathon down the hall with a smile and pushes open the big doors in front of her. She takes a minute to take in the long wood table in the center of the room with mounted witch light torches along the walls, guards, maybe five or six, stationed along the walls and sitting at the table… her family. Jocelyn and Luke sit next to each other chatting quietly, Simon, Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, sitting down at the side of the table and strangely, Maryse and Robert Lightwood sit a few seats apart from each other. Alec and Magnus look terrible, probably regretting drinking so much wine. Simon is the first one to notice her. He stands and walks over to her, bringing her into an embrace. Clary stands shocked for a moment before hesitantly hugging her friend back.

"Hey," Simon says.

"Hey," Clary says. "What are you doing here; I thought you all would've left by now?"

Simon pulls back. "Without saying good bye first? No way," Simon says smiling.

_Goodbye. _The word twists her gut and she has to sit down before she falls over from the wave of nausea that sweeps over her. Sitting down, every one's attention is turned towards her and she can feel their eyes burning against her skin. She squirms uncomfortably under their gaze but pulls a smile onto her face.

"So why are you guys here? As in 'in the Gard' here," Clary asks looking at her mother. Her mother's eyes look filled with pain but when Luke grabs her hand that pain immediately disappears to be replaced with happiness. This makes Clary smile, truly. She still hasn't told her what Valentine did. If she should even tell her. He's gone now and it will only hurt her mother more by telling her what he did to Clary.

"Housing arrangements because of that bet you won. For that all of us are happy you're a natural horse woman," Alec says groggily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Magnus waves his hand and two mugs of coffee appear in front of them. They both start sipping at them tentatively.

The bet. They're leaving, leaving her. "Coffee?" Clary says raising an eyebrow, trying to distract her thoughts from the sick knot. "At seven o'clock at night?"

"Oh sorry," Magnus says and waves his hand again, making more cups of coffee appear in front of everyone. Magnus seems out of it. Clary wonders how much wine they had last night. She shrugs anyway and grabs the coffee, seeing as she just woke up herself. In fact all of them seem like they just rolled out of bed.

Clary sinks back into the cushioned chair as Simon settles back in his and grabs a cup of coffee. "What about housing arrangements? Aren't all of you going back to New York?"

Jocelyn speaks up now, gripping a cup of coffee in one hand and Luke's hand in the other. "Of course not! Luke and I are at least staying here, but I don't know about the rest of you. I'm not leaving you, Clary," she says with a worried look on her face.

Clary smiles as the knot lessens, she turns towards Simon and Isabelle. "What about you? Are you going back to see your mom and sister?"

Simon smiles sadly. "No. They're better off without me… but I still talk to my sister," Simon says after a concerned look from Clary. "I'm going to stay with Isabelle now."

"So you guys are officially dating?"

Isabelle nods enthusiastically and takes hold of Simon's hand. "I'm eighteen now so I was thinking we could live here or out in the country, seeing now Downworlders are allowed in Idris. That's one of the reasons we're here. To see which villas or houses are available in Alicante."

As Isabelle says those words one of the guards, Sam, comes forward with a map of the city and sets it in front of Clary.

"That's where I come in," Sam says with a bright smile.

Clary supposes she should introduce him to her family. "Guys this is Sam Highsmith, he's a friend."

"Well, where do you all want to live? I have villas in the inner and outer city, manors from the city border to the edge of Brocilend forest. Some of the major Institutes are willing to take in residences too, mostly in Europe though," Sam says excitedly.

"Um, do you have the Lightwood manor? If it's not destroyed or anything," Izzy says hesitantly.

"Yeah. 'Course. It's yours anyway. Also if you want, you can have a villa in the city to come and visit," Sam responds.

"Sure. That sounds great!" Izzy says.

Sam jots something down and marks something on the map. He sort of reminds Clary of a real estate agent. Clary focuses on Maryse and Robert who are quietly talking over their cups of coffee. They both have scowls on their faces and they seem to be arguing even though their speech is quieted.

"Izzy what about your parents?" Clary asks her friend so only she can hear. Sam's turned to Alec and Magnus and is discussing how they'll be travelling but may come back to a villa in the inner city or Magnus's apartment back in New York.

Izzy's face turns grim and something resembling sadness and anger flashes across her features. "They're getting a divorce. Mom is going to run the New York Institute and dad is going to apply for some other Institute management position," she says curtly.

Clary puts a hand on her friends arm. "Izzy, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Izzy wipes her face of imaginary tears. "Fine, I'm just glad I'm old enough I don't have to be forced to choose between who I have to live with. Now I can live with Simon, maybe travel a bit."

"That's great Iz. Where do you think you guys will go first? My brother and I were planning on going to Paris, to the Louvre," Clary says, testing to see Izzy's reaction to the mention of her brother. She's seemed to accept it because her face just lights with excitement.

"Maybe Si and I will meet you there," Izzy says.

Clary smiles back. "That's great."

Alec wonders if she knows. If she knows Jace is dead. His _parabatai_ rune had faded rather painfully almost a week ago. He had been locked in the dungeon at the time when the rune had burned to nothing but a white outline. His screams had echoed throughout the stone walls but no one had heard him. No one had heard his tears and sobs either. His parents had already surrendered and Izzy was in another part of the dungeon being tortured.

Alec looks at Clary now, chatting with his sister. No, she doesn't know. She would be crushed and look as though a weight is settled on her shoulders. Well, it already looks like there is but not the grieving type. He doesn't think he should tell her because it would kill her, kill off the little spark of happiness in her eyes that after so long has finally found its way into her green emeralds. Oddly enough Alec has come to view Clary as a little sister and is every bit as protective of her as he is Izzy. He resolves to spare her the grief and pain. He only hopes she never finds out.

The meeting lasted another hour before Izzy and Simon took off for their villa, Alec and Magnus to the Portal to start travelling, her mother and Luke to their villa and Izzy's parents to where ever they were staying so Maryse could pack and leave by tomorrow morning. It's about eight o'clock as Clary heads back to the room. She can see the guards out of the corner or her eyes.

She walks into the room and grabs a sketch book of her desk and grabs some graphite pencils. She pokes her head out the door and finds the two guards standing on either side of it. She knows both of them. Ry and Roman.

"Ry?" she asks.

Ry is a handsome man in his late, maybe early, twenties with a cap of pitch black hair. He turns to her with a smile and says, "Yes your majesty?"

"Two things," she says sweetly. "Don't call me that and which way to the roof?"

"Yes, Lady Queen," Ry says with a playful smile. Clary sighs in exasperation but says nothing. "The roof is that way," he points towards the left of the hall. "Two rights, a left and then the first spiral staircase."

"And I suppose my brother told you to come with me? Where ever?"

"That he did."

"Well where I'm going isn't 'where ever' it's the roof so you can stay here," Clary says and bolts down the hall taking two rights, a left and the first spiral staircase. She wrenches open the hatch to the roof and quickly locks it from her side. That should give her at least a few minutes of peace while they have to go off and find the key.

She settles herself on the flattest part of the roof, right on the edge and dangles her feet over, placing the sketch book in her lap. She opens to a fresh page and numbly starts to sketch the constellations with the illumination of the Glass City below. She didn't want to lock the guards out, well, yes she did, but she just needs some alone time. Which seems peculiar to her seeing as the knot in her stomach was from loneliness but now that she knows her mother and Luke and friends will occasionally be around gives her peace of mind, knowing she won't have lost all recollections of her old life.

Not that she doesn't like her new life with Jonathon, frankly she likes it better, but she can't completely forget her past. It will leave a big gaping hole in her heart, sixteen years' worth of normal, clumsy, mundane years. Sometimes she's grateful for being brought up in the mundane world, if she hadn't been she wouldn't have met Simon. She absent mindedly sketches Simon into the Glass City on her page.

Up on the pencil Gard she sketches herself, sketching. Then on a second thought sketches Jonathon sitting next to her, both their faces tiny blurs but her brother's body language tells her that he is happy, sitting next to his sister on the roof watching her draw. Something tugs at her and she wishes Jonathon was here now, sitting quietly next to her, watching the stars as she commits them to paper.

She closes the sketch book and lies back on the stone roof, gazing up at the stars for pleasure instead of with an artist's eye. She listens to the silence of the city and the distance hoof beats of Shadowhunters' horses, probably Isabelle riding out to the Lightwood manor. Then the rowdy shouts of some vampires, racing through the streets to the open Portal to go back to their home territory. She hears nothing after the Portal closes, just the slight summer breeze, rustling her hair and moving a strand across her face.

She hears a banging on the hatch door and calls out, "Go away! I'll only be a couple minutes!"

She hears Ry's voice, muffled, "We're not allowed to leave you alone, Lady!"

"What do you think I'm gonna do? Jump off the roof?" Clary calls back.

Silence. No banging, no shouts. She's made her point until she hears Roman's deep voice call up through the wood. "Five minutes, Lady, then we're breaking the wood if you don't come down."

Clary rolls her eyes at this but resumes staring at the stars, swirling on the pitch black-blue midnight canvas sky. She listens to the wind and the city, enjoying the solitude but still wanting her brother next to her. Too fast the five minutes pass and she hears Roman banging on the door again. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, taking one last look at the sky and stands to walk over to the rattling hatch.

She unlocks it and Roman and Ry come tumbling through onto the roof. Clary holds back a laugh as they shove off each other and stand at attention. Ry gives a lopsided smile and Roman laughs slightly. Clary rather likes these two, they're nice company to keep and they make her laugh. Clary smiles back and steps through the hatch to walk down the spiral staircase.

"Hey Ry, Roman?" Clary calls behind her.

"Yes," they both say.

"Can you guys train with me?"

"'Course."

"Sure."

"Awesome, I need something to tire me out. Let's go."

Clary, Ry and Roman step into the training and Clary, quick as lightning, grabs a knife and spins on Ry. His eyes widen as he pulls out a dagger to deflect the blade with. Roman stands back while Clary weaves and ducks, taking swings at Ry who deflect them until she starts nicking him on his gear and he hasn't laid a finger or blade on her. She can't decide if he's letting her win or if she's really that good.

She wouldn't be surprised after all those lessons with her brother. Clary, after a few minutes, or maybe hours, eventually pins Ry on the ground with her blade to his throat. His handsome face lights in humor and she smiles down at him and says, "I win." She climbs off him and helps him up.

"Your turn Roman." Clary smiles at him and he only smirks in good humor. Roman, unlike Ry is built like a mountain. Maybe in his early thirties where Ry is early twenties, Ry is only as tall as Jonathon where Roman is a few inches taller so he towers above her. She has to crane her neck to look up at his roughly handsome brown eyes, just like his brother's, Ry.

Clary takes a step back as Roman draws a sword. He raises his eyebrows and looks down at her. "You sure little queen?" Roman asks as Clary draws a sword of her own off the wall. She's starting to doubt herself but she swallows and nods her head.

Roman is hesitant at first as he brings his sword down but as soon as Clary shows that she can hold her own and might even beat him he puts on the heat. Clary starts to sweat profusely with every swing of her sword and Roman sweats right along with her. He brings the sword down in an arc but she blocks it and rolls to the side as he swings his leg out to trip her. On the ground she dives for his legs and he goes down on the ground. Before he can regain his posture Clary sits on his chest and holds the sword over his heart, panting heavily and her arms tremble under the weight.

"By the Angel Roman. You are a hard man to take down, I see why my brother put you on my guard," Clary says falling onto the ground next to him, panting. Ry comes up to her and hauls her off the ground while Roman stands himself. Clary hangs the sword back up and looks out the window. The sun is rising.

If she makes it through today she can get back on a regular sleep schedule. She wonders if Jonathon's back from his meetings yet. Clary drags herself back to her room and she tells Ry and Roman to go clean up or at least change but they refuse to leave the door unattended. Clary sighs and opens her door, she sees her brother passed out on the bed. When she drags Ry and Roman in so that they can see she doesn't need them right now, she tells them to go get cleaned up or she will personally shove their asses in her bathroom and lock the door until they're clean.

Ry gives her another lopsided grin and Roman smiles. They cheerily walk out of the room and Clary locks the door after them. She peels off her clothing in the middle of the room and throws them into her laundry chute in the closet. Clary walks back out to find her brother cracking his eyes open and staring at the nice wake up show Clary has accidentally provided for him.

He throws a sleepy smile at her and she grins, winks and clicks her tongue before walking into the bathroom. This time she decides to draw a bath to soak her sore muscles in the sunken bath tub that could easily hold six people comfortably. She dumps a truck load of bubbles into the water and dips herself down into the steaming water. She lets out a sigh as the hot water encircles her muscles and seeps into her skin. She leans her head back against the cushioned headrest on the side of the tub and closes her eyes.

She lets her body soak in the burning water until the water level rises as another body displaces the water. She feels toes entwine with hers under the hot water and a smile creeps across her face. Keeping her eyes closed she reaches her hand across the tub and feels her finger lace with Jonathon's.

"Meetings about land ownership suck," Jonathon says from across the tub.

"I'll bet. When did you get back last night?" Clary says.

"This morning. Few hours before the sun came up. Where were you? I missed my angel in my bed."

"Training with the guards you set on me. I like them but they're rather annoying sometimes, always following me, threatening to break the door if I don't come off the roof. I much rather prefer you around."

Clary's eyes fly open as she's dragged through the water into Jonathon's lap. He has a grin plastered across his face. His arms wrap around her waist and she slips her legs around his waist. Clary grins back as Jonathon says; "Now that is what I like to hear." Jonathon pulls her into a deep kiss, as though he's been starved of her attention. Clary obliges and kisses him back, wrapping her wet hands around the back of his neck and runs them through his hair, dampening it. Jonathon slips his hands down her back to grasp her rear and pull her closer. In the process of doing so he slips himself inside her and she gasps at the surprise intrusion against his mouth.

Jonathon grins and rolls his hips, causing Clary to moan against his lips. Clary can't believe she's actually happy. Her mother and friends close by. Her brother who loves her and cares for her with his entire being all hers. She may have some things to sort through with the whole queen ship but with Jonathon by her side she feels as though she can accomplish anything. Her body arcs into his as her stomach coils and twists with the shudders of her peak. The hot water still soothing her skin as Jonathon soothes her within. He needs her just as much as she needs him. She's his angel and he's her demon. They balance each other. Jonathon moves his mouth down to her throat and nips at the skin. Her hands trail down his sides and come to rest on his abdomen. His beautiful toned abdomen.

It's hard to believe that not a year ago Clary despised her brother and now she was enjoying him in their bathtub. Finally Jonathon is thrown over his edge and moans lustfully against her skin. Still in her, he moves back to her mouth and gives her a long sweet kiss before pulling back the slightest bit and whispering in a husky, heartfelt, desperate voice, "I love you."

Clary sinks into bliss, finally and forever.


	21. Epilogue- Jace's Truth

**_This is one of the many epilogue chapters I'm going to be posting for this story. Loved writing this chapter! So Clary is 19 and Jonathon is 20 now. Have fun reading it! ;)_**

_Epilogue- Two years later_

Jocelyn kisses Clary on the forehead, hugging her close to her body. "Is Jonathon decent, sweetheart?"

Clary sighs against her. How many times now has her mother asked that? Seven or eight… hundred times. "Yes mother, Jonathon's been fine. He makes me happy you know. I hope you know that I'm happy."

Jocelyn hugs her tighter. "That's all that matters, that and your wellbeing. Take care, sweetheart. Luke and I are going to France for a few weeks for our honey moon. I'll call once a week to check up, okay?"

Clary extricates herself from her mother's grasp and smiles. "Have fun mom. Don't worry about me." Clary kisses her mother on the cheek and her and Luke head down the stairs towards their villa. Clary is about to turn around to head back when she sees a familiar pair of black haired men climb the Gard steps. Clary smiles to see Alec and Magnus back and she climbs back down the stairs to meet them half way. Alec looks up to see Clary running down the steps. He stops on the landing and Clary runs into his embrace.

"Alec! You're back! How was Germany?" Clary says, soaking in Alec's warmth.

"It was chocolate filled my dear," Magnus says behind her. Alec releases her and Magnus takes her in a one sided hug, kissing her on the cheek. He produces a dark black box with a red ribbon tied around it.

"Magnus, you shouldn't have," Clary says kissing Magnus's cheek as she takes the chocolates from his hands.

"Oh but I should, there isn't a scrap of decent sugar in that Gard kitchen of yours," Magnus says with a flick of his wrist.

She turns to Alec, noticing his cheeks are red with wind burn. "We were just swinging by to say hi before we leave for Moscow," Alec says.

"Moscow? Oh Jonathon and I went there a few weeks ago. I loved the architecture, you guys will like it. Hey do you want to come in for a quick bite to eat. You guys look hungry, despite our lack of decent sugar plus it's getting pretty cold." Clary smiles.

"Only for a few minutes I guess. What do you say Magnus, we haven't had anything to eat since that strip club," Alec says bluntly.

Magnus's cat eyes flash but he nods and they all head up the stairs into the Gard towards the kitchen. Ry and Roman are standing at the doorway, waiting for Clary. They stay back to give Clary, Alec and Magnus breathing room. They step into the kitchen, Alec ahead of her and she catches sight of a pale rune on the back of his neck.

No, she thinks. Please, no. Dread and horror grip her throat. She stops in the open space between the counter and table. Magnus halts abruptly so as not to hit Clary and Alec turns around to see why they've stopped. Alec knits his brow as he sees Clary's barely controlled dread.

She takes a shuddery breath, on the verge of tears. She doesn't want to ask, she doesn't want to know but she needs to. "Alec, which rune is that? On your neck?"

Horror flashes across his face and his gaze flicks to Magnus, whose lips are pursed. Clary tries to breathe in but her breath catches and she almost chokes. Alec pulls off his shirt to reveal a toned, muscular body and turns around. His faded, stark white _parabatai_ rune sits, blindingly painful on the back of his neck. A muffled gasp of horror escapes Clary as she runs a finger down the pale skin of his neck. Tears threaten to spill over as Alec pulls his shirt back on. The white rune is burned into her brain. No, no he escaped. But he might not have had anywhere to go. He could have been caught or demons could have killed him. Or…

Clary's legs shake and she collapses. Alec rushes forward and catches her before she can hit the ground. Clary can't find any words. It feels like an old wound is being torn open. Her heart feels as though it's being wrenched around in her chest, as though someone is trying to rip it from her chest. Alec holds her in a crushing hug supporting her, he reminds her so much of Jace. Not in his mannerisms but all the memories of Jace that are shared with him. She remembers when Jace first brought her to the Institute and she saw the dark shadow of Alec, glaring at her.

She starts to cry, wetting Alec's shirt. Sobs rack her body, trembling she tries to grasp onto reality but it slips away as Alec holds her tightly, trying to ground her. She bunches her hands in his shirt and buries her face in the dark fabric. Alec holding her comforts her somehow, reminds her of Jace. One of the only keep sakes she has left of him. His best friend and _parabatai. _Her body shakes against Alec's and Magnus rubs her back. Alec's head is bowed to rest on her hair.

"When?" Clary manages to strangle out. Alec will know how long he's been gone, how long his once black rune has been white. Alec holds her tighter; crushing her ribs, but manages to take a deep breath.

"About two almost three years, when I was in the Gard prisons."

Clary sucks in a painful breath. Memories flash before her and her stomach churns. "The Gard prisons? But Jace was…" A memory of Jonathon standing in a cell, covered in blood with a wild grin on his face. Her tears immediately stop, all-consuming sadness replaced with a burning hatred, subsuming the rest of her emotions.

"He didn't!" Clary almost screams, pulling away from Alec.

"What Clary?" Alec looks down on her with concern.

"Jace he was… at the manor. Jonathon, he… he killed him. He killed him!"

She turns on her heel and marches out the door, anger and hatred radiating from her body. Alec and Magnus trail behind her, concern growing on their faces as Clary throws open the training room doors. She sees Jonathon sitting on a chair sharpening a blade with a whetstone. Anger blazes in her chest as she yells, "Murderer!"

Jonathon doesn't look up from his blade, so as not to cut himself but speaks calmly, "Angel, you're going to have to be more specific." She hates him, she's lain with him for almost three years and he never told her. He murdered him.

"Don't you dare call me angel! You have no right, you filthy, lying bastard! You killed him!"

This time Jonathon looks up to see Clary's cheeks flaming, glaring at him with Alec and Magnus standing in the doorway at her back. He knits his eyebrows, placing the blades back on the wall and the whetstone on a shelf. "Who angel?"

"You know who!" She yells but Jonathon's expression doesn't change. This only makes Clary angrier. She sees Ry and Roman come to stand inside the doors, watching their two employers carefully. "Jace! You killed him! You told me he escaped!"

Jonathon's expression shifts but assumes a bored façade. "Angel let me explain," he says standing up from his chair and starting towards her.

"Stop calling me that! You don't get to call me angel! You don't get to come near me! Why did you lie to me?"

Tears spill, unbidden, over her cheeks but she does nothing to to wipe them away. Hurt and pain cross Jonathon's stoic face and something inside her revels in his pain. He probably made Jace suffer, he deserves the same.

"I lied to protect you angel," Jonathon says cautiously.

"That's all you ever do, Jonathon! All you do is lie and whenever that lie comes to the surface it hurts me more than if you just told me! Lying doesn't protect me, it hurts me!"

Clary takes a throwing blade off the wall and hurls it at Jonathon. Alec and Magnus were too shocked to stop her. He ducks to the side as the blade buries itself in the wall where his right shoulder had been. She doesn't want to kill him, angel forbid she could, but that doesn't mean she can't hurt him. He turns on her with a shocked expression.

"You're a murderer! You lied to me! How dare you lie to me!" Clary grabs another blade off the wall.

Jonathon puts his hands up and steps forward cautiously. "Clary, please."

Sobs are racking her body again but her arm holding the knife is steady. "No! No more 'please,' no more apologies. This is the last time you lie to me Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern!" She raises the knife, aiming for Jonathon's shoulder but before she can hurl it at him again Alec grabs her forearm and yanks her back. Alec pulls her kicking and screaming and sobbing into him. He wraps his strong arms around her waist and hauls her backwards as she screams obscenities at her brother and tears soak her shirt. Before the doors close she yells back at him, "I'm leaving this hell hole in the morning! I'm not coming back for you to lie to me again!"

Clary manages to kick Roman in the thigh but he doesn't falter as he helps hold her legs still as Alec drags her to a bedroom. It's not her bedroom. Alec pins her down on the bed, trying to calm her down. She continues to kick and struggle as Ry holds down her legs and Alec pins her shoulders.

She knows she's screaming, kicking and fighting against her friends. "Let me go!"

Alec's voice eventually breaks through the red and teary haze. "Clary, please. Calm down, you're going to hurt yourself."

Clary continues to struggle until Magnus comes over and places two fingers to her forehead. Alec, Magnus, Ry and the sound of Jonathon yelling at someone fade to black as she passes out.

Clary wakes up sore and aching. Empty. Clary rolls over to see Alec sleeping in a chair beside her bed and Magnus on the couch. This isn't the room she and Jonathon sleep in. She'll never set foot in that damned room again.

"Alec," Clary says through a raw throat.

Alec wakes immediately and focuses on Clary. "Hey," Alec says.

"Alec you didn't need to stay. My ass of a brother will not be happy. Not that a give a rat's ass but I don't want you to get hurt."

"Your guards wouldn't let him in. He tried to come to you but Ry and Roman locked the door and are standing outside now," Alec says taking her hand. Clary sits up and hugs him.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that alone Alec. Will you go home now, try to have some fun for me?"

"Will you try not to murder your brother? I don't need you sinking to his level okay?"

Clary nods. She just wants to get Alec and Magnus out of the Gard. They stand and Clary walks over to the door while Alec goes to wake Magnus on the couch. Before she reaches the door she turns back to Alec. "Please don't tell the others that Jonathon did it. I don't need them getting involved. But I assume they have known about Jace's death for a while? Magnus knew."

"Yes they've known, but Magnus, you and I are the only ones who know who did it. I won't tell them. Try not to get into too much trouble okay? We'll come by later to check on you. Your guards also said something about reporting only to you now. Don't know why but they didn't let Jonathon anywhere near you. They're quite the friends," Alec says shaking Magnus awake.

"At least I have friends in the Gard," Clary says with a weak smile. Her face hurts but she forces the smile anyway. She turns back towards the door, unlocks it, and pulls it open. Ry and Roman immediately turn to see her standing blearily in the door frame. Looking at Ry she sees his jaw is black and blue while Roman has a cut on his forehead. Clary gasps and her hands fly to their faces. Clary wipes away a drop of blood from Roman's brow and gently runs a finger over Ry's bruised chin.

"Did my brother do this to you?" Clary asks withdrawing her hands. They both smile warmly, they look so much alike.

"Yes, Lady Queen but only because we wouldn't let him in. We knew you could not tolerate your brother's presence at that current moment. So we kept him out, with a little trouble, but kept him out all the same," Ry says. Ry seems to be the one who usually talks.

"You're right. Thank you. Can you guys make sure my friends here make it out of the Gard without my brother skinning them alive?"

"Of course." They both bow and Clary smiles, then sweeps out the door after saying goodbye to Alec and Magnus.

She can feel her exhaustion in her bones even though she just took a nap. Even a forced one. She's also very hungry, given she feels empty now. She heads towards the kitchen. How could Jonathon do this to her? He was being so good, seemed so carefree. Jace's death probably was why he was carefree because he had no competition. If he weren't so blind he would see that he doesn't have competition, she had given herself to him fully. But he was so pig headed that he couldn't see that so he killed Jace. The jackass. She's leaving, maybe she'll go to her mother. Say that she needs to be away from Jonathon but that will only cause her suspicion. She doesn't want to impose on any of her friends either. At the moment the Gard seems to be the only place she can go. Fine but that doesn't mean she has to sleep in the same room as Jonathon or even the same wing.

In the kitchen she grabs an apple and starts to chew on it. She starts walking back to her bedroom, wanting to go back to sleep. She freezes as Jonathon walks through the kitchen doorway. Jonathon's head is hung low and his shoulders sag. He hasn't noticed Clary yet but she made a small, strangled noise when she saw him. Now he looks up to see her standing mid stride with her half eaten apple in hand.

"Clary I…" Jonathon begins.

Before he can finish Clary bolts past him and down the hall, slamming into her room. She makes sure to lock the door just as she hears Jonathon slam up against it. The slam sounded as though he couldn't stop his momentum, not trying to break the door down.

"What part of don't come near me do you not understand?" Clary shouts at the locked door.

"No part. You don't know how much this hurts me angel. Let me explain myself. I hate seeing the pain on your face," Jonathon says through the door. He doesn't sound very sorry, just like the old Jonathon she used to know, the one she loved and his voice tugs at her heart but at the same time draws on her rage.

"Well you're not going to be seeing my face for a very long time!"

"Angel please, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"Well you did!"

Clary hears a thump and can't decide if Jonathon has just fallen to the floor or banged against the door. Either way it startles Clary and she unlocks the door to see what he did. She opens the door to Jonathon standing in the doorway, looking down at her with pained, regretful eyes. Clary keeps glaring despite the hurt on Jonathon's face. Seeing he's fine she slams the door again before he can get a word out.

She's not going to forgive him for this, never. She hears a sigh from outside the door but doesn't care. Right now sleep seems nice, that is what she is going to do, sleep. She pulls the blackout curtains on the setting sun, slips out of her day clothes and under the covers. Immediately dropping to sleep as her head hits the pillow, she lets the ache in her chest spread until it suffocates her into sleep.

Two weeks have passed since she found out. Two weeks of avoiding Jonathon, two weeks of withholding sex, which to Clary, seems like a more horrible punishment to him than any other besides not letting him see her. It's well past midnight and all the castle servants are asleep for the night and Ry and his brother are out drinking. She let them go; they've had a rough time trying to help her keep Jonathon away even though she didn't want them to get involved. Tonight she finally got them to go enjoy themselves. She's glad she has some friends that are always close by. She's on the couch in the separate room with a sketch book on her lap, the fire roaring in the fire place in the dead of winter. The fire and a lamp on the side table are the only sources of light, so her sketch is flickering with shadows, so are her hands, engulfed in shadows.

She finishes a rough sketch of different runes, all hooked together by one of their lines, entwining with each other to fill the white of the page. She doesn't know where her brother is nor does she care. The first few days she sat in bed, mourning Jace, she even drew a few mourning runes on her arms. The second week her anger boiled down but her forgiveness has yet to come; she doesn't think it ever will. At least for him killing Jace.

She hears a thump in the hallway, a loud one and she jolts, sending the sketch book flying off her lap. She hears another and she stands rushing to her door as one final crash sounds against the wood. She pulls the door open, wondering what, at this time of night, could be making such noise. She screams. Jonathon stands slumped against her door frame, literally covered in blood from head to toe. Long gashes run across his chest, oozing blood. His clothes are in tatters and his face is covered in fresh blood along with a long cut along his cheek. He holds a hand to his neck, blood and an ugly green fluid drip through his fingers.

Jonathon's eye lids droop but he manages a weak smile and to croak out, "Greater demon," before he collapses into Clary. She reflexively reaches out to catch him and has the breath knocked out of her. She struggles to hold up his body as she drags him to the bed. She's starting to panic. What if he dies? The green liquid coming out of his neck can't be good, never. She doesn't want him to die, no matter how angry she is with him. She looks down at him, sickly colored skin under the layers of blood. How stupid is he? What did he do? He's going to die. Clary scrambles for a stele, he may only have minutes. Her breath comes in short, rapid pants. On her knees she digs through the dresser hurriedly and finally comes up with a stele. She frantically runs back over to her brother and removes the hand from his neck. A pulsing, green, puncture wound gapes at her. She struggles to muffle a scream, and realizes that silent tears have started to fall down her cheeks.

She hurriedly places the stele on his neck and pours every ounce of power she has into the _iratze. _Her brother can't die. She's already lost one of her loves she can't lose another. She can't lose her brother. Slowly the gaping hole in his neck closes and Clary lets out a sigh of relief as some of the color returns to his face. Jonathon's eyes flutter open for a moment, looking up at her with reverence and love. "Don't leave me." He's gone again. Clary almost laughs with relief.

"You stupid boy. How can I possibly stay mad at you when you try to get yourself killed?" Clary hauls her brother further onto the bed so his body is laid horizontally on the comforter. Now she can take her time patching up her brother, that his major, fatal wound is healed. She has to cut off his shirt and pants, which are in tatters and finds more gashes running along his torso. Some of them have healed slightly, the ones closer to his neck but a lot of them are still open and bleeding. She has to Mark him with four _iratze _on his torso and chest, two on his hip and turning him over, three on his back. All the while Clary thinks, _What the hell did you do you idiotic boy? _She also finds a giant gouge in his thigh. She lets out a yelp as she sees his blood pouring out of the wound. She quickly wraps it with a spare headband on her nightstand to cut off blood flow as she inks another _iratze_ on to his thigh. She unties the head band after the wound closes completely.

After closing up all his wounds she walks into the bathroom and returns with an armful of towels. Jonathon is a dark, bloody shadow on the mattress, flickering in the fire light. Placing the towels on the bed she runs back to grab a great dish of water. She places that on the bedside table and climbs on the bed. She sits with Jonathon's head in her lap and grabs a towel, wets it and gently dabs at Jonathon's face. His eyes flutter but they stay closed. She wipes all the blood from his face then moves to his hair. The white blond stained a dark red; she dips the towel in the bowl, which turns the water a pinkish red. She dampens his hair until the blood starts to come out. By the time she gets most of the blood out, his hair is still a light pinkish color. By some miracle, Jonathon's boxers managed to stay intact but his body, legs and feet are now bare. She grabs a new towel and dampens that one, running it over his tender chest. His face still has a sickly hue to it, due to all the blood loss but is slowly regaining its rightful color.

"You're impossible," she whispers to him. She knows he can't hear but she might as well say something. They haven't exchanged words in two weeks. "You killed Jace almost three years ago and never told me. I manage to be angry with you but then you go out to angel knows where in the middle of the night and try to get yourself killed. I hope you at least killed the Greater Demon you numbskull. Now you're getting blood all over the sheets. What will Catalyn think? Blood covering the sheets again? She was scandalous the last time that happened. Plus you end up stumbling back here to _my_ rooms and practically crush me. You couldn't have gone to the medic you stupid boy?"

She grabs another towel and wipes off his torso and legs. Most of the blood is gone which is good enough for now. In the morning or whenever he wakes up he'll have to shower. She hopes he'll at least be strong enough to shower on his own. With his injuries and Greater Demon wound, though closed, he's going to be laid up for at least a few days so she doubts his ability for a lone shower. Wiping off his left arm, she finds it sits at an odd angle.

Clary groans inwardly. "No. You idiot," Clary says. She already put an _iratze _on his shoulder so the arm healed but incorrectly. She's going to have to rebreak it then set it again before putting another _iratze _on. She hears a laugh from the hall and she slips Jonathon's head back onto the blanket before running over to the door. Ry and Roman walk down the hallway and upon seeing her, slightly panicked, their smiles fade.

"What is it Lady Queen?" Ry asks, approaching her.

"Um, this is going to sound weird but I need you two to hold down my brother so I can rebreak his arm."

Their brows knit.

"Please? I didn't break it. Promise," Clary says seeing the looks on their faces but they come into the room anyway. They see the bloody towels and look at Clary suspiciously but say nothing.

"What do you need us to do?"

"Hold down his shoulders and keep his arms still."

Ry and Roman move to either side of the bed and hold down Jonathon's shoulders, Ry holding down Jonathon's broken arm. She ties back her hair that falls forward into her face. She kisses him on the forehead.

"Sorry babe," Clary says as she takes his arm and rebreaks it in the place it first snapped. Jonathon's eyes fly open and he tries to surge forward, letting out a scream. Ry and Roman hold him down as she resets it. Her brother lets out another scream as he falls back to the bed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He's panting and his eyes roll back into his head as he passes out from the pain… or blood loss, or both.

"Thank you. He's fine now, for the most part," Clary says still staring at her brother. She looks up to see Ry and Roman. She looks closely now she can see how drunk they are. "It's late. Go to bed guys, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure you want him," Roman nods towards Jonathon, lying sweat covered and still slightly bloody, on her bed, "In here with you, Lady Queen?"

"No, but you can't move him now. I need to take care of him, no matter what idiotic thing he got himself into. Go to bed, sleep off the alcohol, you can have tomorrow off if you want, I won't be going anywhere for the next, oh maybe week," Clary says, she realizes her breath is quicker than normal but that could be because she just had to rebreak her brother's arm then reset it. Breaking a bone on purpose takes effort.

Reluctantly they nod and bow. Leaving, Roman ruffles her hair and Ry kisses her cheek before they walk out of the room and Clary shuts the door. She walks back over and draws another _iratze_ on his arm to heal the break. She walks back into the bathroom and grabs long, big, white bandages, medical tape and another clean wash cloth.

She lays the wet wash cloth on Jonathon's forehead and proceeds to bend his broken arm against his body, wrapping the bandages around it and his chest, holding it there. The initial break is healed but he won't be able to use it for a few days. After she's done wrapping his arm and padding it she stands up to look down at herself. She's cover in his blood and demon acid, the latter having burned a hole through her shirt. She pulls off her shirt and pants then walks to the closet to throw on another pair of sweat pants and a tank top. She climbs back into bed after replacing her sketch book on the side table. She rests Jonathon's head on her stomach and pulls a blanket up over both of them.

She runs her fingers through his pink tinted hair. His soft, formerly white blond hair ghosts through her fingers. "Why do you have to be so intolerable? First I hate you, then I don't know then I love you. Then I find out you lied to me for three years so then I hate you, don't talk to you for two weeks then you show up at my doorstep on _death's_ doorstep and I can't help but save you. You make it very hard to be angry with you," Clary whispers. The fire still flickers in the hearth and Jonathon's face is turned toward hers on her stomach. She runs a hand over his cheekbone, still bruised but healing from the long gash there. Blood gone she can see the remnants of other injuries. A faded purple bruise on his other cheek, a thin line above eyebrow indicating a cut and on his throat the ugly puncture wound still slightly visible. She kisses his cheek before settling down against the pillows, closing her eyes but Jonathon stirs against her.

"You stayed," Jonathon says, trying to shift but cries out as he looks down, sleepily, at the bandages wrapping around his chest and torso. Clary looks down at him to see him glaring at the bandages.

"Of course I did numbskull. I couldn't well let you die," Clary whispers still stroking his tinted hair.

"But you're still _here_," Jonathon says tiredly. His eyes rest on her for a moment before closing again and he rests his head back on her torso, his face turned towards hers.

"Well, you won't be able to walk for a few days due to the thing on your neck and your thigh. I would feel guilty leaving an invalid alone," Clary says innocently.

Jonathon manages a weak laugh but winces, clutching his ribs with his good hand.

"Do I even want to ask what you did?" Clary asks exasperated, stroking Jonathon's hair.

Jonathon's good hand comes up to pull hers down, the one not stroking his hair, and lets a long breath out. He laces his fingers in with hers, holding on with a fierce possession. This is the closest he's been to her in the past two weeks. He must feel so elated to be touching her again, to be close to her after two weeks. She can feel his muscles relax into her, soaking up her presence and warmth, absent for more than fourteen days. In some way she's missed him too, the way his body curves into hers, his warmth and stability. She's not going to tell him but she lets herself enjoy him, no matter how battered and broken at the moment.

"It's a long story, one that I would prefer to tell tomorrow. In the comfort of this bed with you next to me, hopefully." His words have hope threaded deep within them, practically begging her outright.

"We'll see," Clary says. She is going to stay with him, help him heal. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid again.

Jonathon brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, holding it to his lips longer than necessary. His hot breath ghosts over her skin, sending goose bumps up her arm. He keeps her hand pressed against his cheek and she doesn't pull back. She lets her hand rest on his cheek and after a while she thinks he's asleep, she leans back against the pillows again, watching the fire flicker.

After a long silence though she hears Jonathon whisper, "I missed you."

Clary's hand stills in his hair but she doesn't retract either of her hands. _I missed you too_. Part of her cries out but blood spattered on stone walls flashes across her vision and quells her voice. She keeps her eyes on the flame, watching the shadows dance across the dim walls. Jonathon turns on his good side, slipping an arm under her back and pulls her farther under his head. He isn't expecting her to respond, he's just happy he has her back. In whatever way he can get her.

Finally, when Jonathon's fallen asleep, she whispers, "I missed you too, Jonathon."


	22. Epilogue- Set Me As a Seal

_**So sorry it took so long to update. I have been busy, busy, busy. Honors society, high school application. By the Angel the high school applications! They're exhausting and aggravating, but I tried my best on this chapter. Still more to come thannks for reading. Enjoy the smut. ;)**_

_**Epilogue- Six Months Later**_

The scar from the Greater Demon wound is still faintly evident on his neck. Running her hand over it, Jonathon wakes, placing his hand over hers. He takes a deep breath before rolling over to face her. Ever since that night he's gotten into the habit of sleeping with his head resting on her torso. He shoves up her shirt and kisses her stomach, his lips warm against her cool skin. She smiles sleepily and draws in a deep breath, running her free hand through his hair. It turned back to white blond after a few showers. She had giggled at his reaction when she helped him limp into the bathroom to shower. His mouth had fallen open as he laid eyes on his pink hair.

She still hasn't forgiven him, nor will she ever but she can't keep herself from him. Jonathon's mouth travels up her stomach, pushing up her shirt, kissing between her breasts, chest and throat. Finally he reaches her mouth and captures it with his in a long, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, Clary's eyes are closed but she opens them to see his black ones looking down at her, drinking in the sight of her underneath him. The sky not even light behind him.

She smiles before shoving him off, onto the bed and walking over to the closet. Naked, now Jonathon removed her shirt, she pulls on a fresh pair of panties and bra then some jeans and t-shirt. Back in the bedroom she finds Jonathon dressed, but not for his meetings or hunting. The type of clothing he wore to go hunt that Greater Demon. Clary eyes him suspiciously as he smiles at her, taking her hand. Jonathon had gone out to handle the Greater Demon, alone. It had somehow gotten into Idris on the edge of Brocilend Plain. He was in somewhat of a depression because of her and wasn't paying attention as the demon had raised its stinger and jabbed him in the neck, breaking his arm before he had finally regained his composure and killed it.

Jonathon leads them out into the hall, taking two rights, a left and the first spiral staircase. He's taking them to the roof. She hasn't been up there since before Jonathon came home basically dying. Clary had been right; he hadn't been able to walk or use his arm for a good three days. The morning after she had reset his arm, he had stupidly wanted to take a shower, believing he could walk on his own. He had stepped out of bed and fallen on his face. With a few mumbled curses and pitiful, embarrassed glances at her, Clary had managed to get him back to his feet while he leaned on her heavily as they made it to the bathroom. In the bathroom she had removed the bandages around his chest and arm. With a few grimaces from her brother she got it off and saw the ugly purple-green skin encompassing the break. Then looking down at his thigh it was an odd redish color but both injuries seemed to be healing properly.

She had had to remove his boxers for him and help him into the shower. He had to sit down on the stone bench in the shower, hugging his arm close to his body. Clary had to practically wash all of him. Clary kept a stoic face as she tied up her hair and shed her clothes, lathering soap up and down his body gingerly. He'd said nothing but smiled reverently as his little sister helped wash him, touching each and every part of him. When she got to his groin, she stood, stared Jonathon in the face and ran the soap over him, glaring at his smile still angry at him. It had sent shivers down his spine and tightened his already evident hard-on which made Clary scoff in disgust.

She'd waited on him hand and foot for the next few days, not allowing the servants to enter the room. Waking up one morning to the sleeping Clary and finding he could walk and move his arm without pain he had kissed Clary awake. She had woken up to the assault and immediately molded to his body. Still reluctant but her body couldn't take the separation anymore. They hadn't kissed on the lips in three weeks. Jonathon, already mostly naked in his boxers and Clary in nothing but a long shirt, had eagerly slid his hands over her exposed torso under the loose shirt. She had arched her body into his as his hand brushed her panties. As soon as her body moved he had torn the fabric away and pushed down his own boxers. Clary had stopped, pulling back hesitantly, placing her hands on his chest.

"Jonathon, I can't, I _won't,_" Clary had said. Jonathon had lowered his head down to her neck, dragging tongue and teeth along her throat.

"Angel please. I need this. Will you please let me have this? I've missed you so much, you can't imagine how much I've missed you," he begged into her neck. "It's broken me more than it should, hurt me in ways I can't describe. I can't stand being away from you, not be able to see you or touch you. Please. I'm begging, angel."

Clary sighed, lacing her hands in his hair. She was hesitant because she was still raw from Jace's death, the pain had felt too fresh but she had missed him too. It had felt so foreign waking up every morning without a warm body next to her. She only realized that after she had stopped crying. But he shouldn't have lied to her, shouldn't have killed Jace either. The pain on his face though, it tore at her heart. This pain ran so much deeper than that of the past few days. Jonathon could handle physical pain but this was too much for him and she could see him cracking, see him on the verge of tears at this loss. He begged her with his eyes and body, holding her as though she might slip away from him the moment he closed his eyes. She would have if not for the look in his eyes; he was breaking, seeing her so close but so distant while caring for his injuries.

Reluctantly she laced her hands behind his head in his hair and pulled Jonathon's body closer, nuzzling her face next to his ear. "Take it," she had whispered.

Now, Jonathon pulls her up the staircase to the roof. It's before dawn but the first little streams of light bleed through the sky. Looking at the flat part of the roof, where she had drawn almost four years ago the night sky above the Glass City, she sees a bottle of wine and two glasses. That drawing now hangs in a frame in their room. She rolls her eyes as he pulls them down onto the roof's flat part, pulling her body close to his. He pours two glasses of white wine and hands one to Clary. She shrugs and takes a sip. His eyes aren't broken anymore but still ever since those weeks they hold a vulnerability and fear in them that only she can see.

After a few minutes of them watching the lightening city, with Jonathon's arm draped across her shoulders, Clary asks, "Is there a reason we're getting drunk before even dawn? On the roof? Or did you feel we're not drunk on the roof nearly often enough?" Clary asks, looking at Jonathon out of the corner of her eye.

Jonathon smiles, looking at her profile fully, not hiding his admiration. "Let's go with other," he says chuckling lightly. After a moment he says abruptly, "You're my angel. Yes?" He looks into his glass of wine before tilting his head to look at her. It was more of a statement than a question but she nods her head.

"My sister," he takes a deep breath as if his words scare him, "My queen and lover?"

"Yes," Clary answers cautiously. She has no idea where this is going. Of course she's his lover, what have they been doing for the past three and a half years? The other two are obvious and blatant, both of which Jonathon tends to avoid saying. He likes confusing her with riddles and complicated speech.

"But there is one thing you are not, though I would like you to be," Jonathon says trying to catch her gaze but she keeps it on the pre-dawn sky above.

Clary raises an eyebrow at him. "And what might that be?"

Jonathon pulls Clary closer to him, setting their wine down on the roof. He grabs her chin, turning her head to look at him and leans down to whisper sweetly in her ear, "My wife."

Clary sucks in a breath as she processes her brother's words. His wife? Did he just ask her to marry him? After almost four years he asks. Four years of sex, ruling with each other, battling each other, torturing each other and he decides to ask now. He decides to ask at all. How absurd, them getting married seems like a useless necessity. Everyone already knows they are together, no other man would come near her if they do. So why a marriage proposal? Their mother is probably going to go into shock. She's adjusted to her son and daughter having sex, realizing that they really are too different for it to matter.

But what will she think about marriage? That may be pushing it a little far. She chews on her lip as Jonathon stares at her wistfully. His face is patient but expectant, but holds a leniency that says he'll be happy with either answer he gets as long as it means he gets to keep her.

"Why?" Clary asks, gazing at her brother in confusion.

He seems to have expected this and keeps his face clear and patient. "I want you in every way. I _need_ you in every way. I need you to be mine in heart and soul, mind and body. I cannot read your thoughts so I do not know if any of that is true but you have not left me thus far and I want a bond that no one person can object. I want you to be mine in law. _Sed lex dura lex_, it is hard to break also. In law you would be mine and no one could object, no one could ever take you away from me because I would not be able to bear it. Nor would I let you go at all, let alone easily. The only people who could break the bond would be you and I and I will never break it. I will never, not in all eternity, let you leave me." Jonathon's eyes are intense and focused on her. She can see he means every word, wholly and intends to carry through on those words.

"What will you do with me once I'm your wife? Discard me now that I'll be yours with no chance of me running off? Lock me away somewhere and use me only when it pleases you?" Clary asks almost bitterly. She is not going to be saddled to Jonathon, knowing who he is once he gets what he wants, who usually gets tired of the things he acquires a few short days after he gets them. He's told her he loves her but how can she trust that? He's a demon, demons lie. Though how can he be, he's been in her heart and in her pants for four years and has never once tired of her, even been broken at losing her, brought to his knees.

Jonathon tugs her closer, gripping her fiercely, trying to show his intentions of never leaving her. "Never. I would love you even more fiercely than I do now. I would treat you as though you might leave my worthless demon behind because _you_ are an angel. My angel," Jonathon says, holding her tightly.

"Well I suppose I would have to tell mother, wouldn't I?" Clary says, looking back out at the dim city.

"Is that a yes, little sister?" Jonathon asks, almost disbelievingly.

Clary closes her eyes to the sky, to her brother, to her feelings, her better judgment, a smile working its way onto her face. She nods and hopes to the Angel she won't regret this.

Jonathon sucks in a breath and tugs her into a deep, satisfied kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her on top of him so she lies on his chest. She rests her hands on his chest and Jonathon crushes her body into him. She moves her hands from his chest to cup his face, playing her fingers across his cheekbones. Clary and Jonathon stayed like that until the sun came up but as soon as the light showed its face, with great precision Jonathon scoops Clary up into his arms, stands and goes back inside.

For the rest of the day he never let go of her hand, even through the whirlwind of fabrics and foods and planning for the wedding in less than a month. Later that night, Clary falls into bed, utterly exhausted. She's in a sports bra and short shorts, lying under the warm blankets, their softness caressing her body as she sinks down into them. She and Jonathon had moved back to their old room after the first week of Jonathon's injuries, he hadn't been able to make it farther than the bathroom so she made him stay in the room she was occupying. She turns her tired thoughts to tomorrow's schedule. Tomorrow she's supposed to get her dress fitted; a gold wedding gown for her Shadowhunter wedding. Tomorrow she also has to tell her family about the engagement. She has to tell her mother. Thinking about Isabelle's reaction she smiles. Despite the groom being Clary's brother, Izzy will probably drag her all around the Glass City bachelorette shopping and throw her a bachelorette party. The whole nine yards. The bed sinks as Jonathon slides in next to her, nuzzling his face in her neck and wrapping his legs around hers. Looking at his white blond hair, nuzzled in her neck she sees the rest of his lax body as a dark silhouette.

She can tell by the way he buries himself against her that he is exhausted too. His arm slides across her torso but stops midway to rest on her bare stomach. Clary runs her hand through his ivory locks as he takes a deep breath against her neck. She doesn't want him so close. After today, after his nonstop company and physical touch she feels slightly claustrophobic. The only caress she wants at the moment is that of the bed sheets and soft, fuzzy blanket. She is about to move his hand and pull away from the hot breath blowing on her neck when Jonathon speaks.

"Do you even love me?" Jonathon murmurs against her neck. The subtlety and unexpectedness of the question strike Clary in the face. What sort of question is he asking? She's getting married to him isn't she? Doesn't that imply love? Jonathon is not one for insecurity, so why is he asking? She watches the shadows move across the ceiling as Jonathon rubs his thumb back and forth on her stomach. The movement isn't calm, it's anxious. Despite her claustrophobia and growing panic at his question, the rubbing sends comforting warmth through her front, causing her to relax slightly under his body. Remembering his words this morning that he doesn't know if she even loves him the question makes sense.

"Of course I do," Clary says quietly, running another hand through his hair. It feels so soft brushing through her fingers. She's starting to feel uncomfortable. Jonathon is usually so assured in everything, never doubting himself.

"Angel?" Jonathon asks, not believing her equivocal answer while blowing more hot air against her neck with his words, causing her to shudder minutely. "Say it." Jonathon says almost sheepishly, begging and demanding at once, keeping his face buried in her neck, as though her possible words might hurt him somehow. Like some child cowering from words that might sting. She doesn't understand why he's cowering; does she really have that kind of influence over him? That she can bring the unwavering, undoubted Jonathon Morgenstern to his knees with only her words. Maybe he thinks, now he's asked this commitment, this bond, of her that she might run away. Possibly, he thinks, that this permanent commitment will bring to light her doubt of her love for him.

Clary shifts to tip Jonathon's face out of her neck. She is not allowing the mighty warrior of her brother to cower against her like some child. Yes, she is his only outlet, his only place he can be weak and she understands, she will let him be weak with her, she won't judge him, she'll help him. But she is also his strength and she will not let some foolish notion that she doesn't love him after three years bring him to her with his tail between his legs. Jonathon opens his endless eyes to look at her.

"I love you," Clary says, putting love and kindness behind the words, guaranteeing they convey her message strongly. Jonathon's eyes light as he surges down to envelop her mouth hungrily almost desperately. He holds onto her like she could vanish in the blink of an eye. She lets Jonathon pull her on top of him as he moves his pelvis to rub against hers, sending sparks and pleasure through her. She pushes his hips down with her own as she scratches her nails along his side, knotting in his boxers but too tired to go any farther and Jonathon can see her exhaustion. He doesn't force the kiss to hold but keeps her on top of him, letting her lips go when she pulls back.

"Is that good enough?" Clary asks tiredly with a smile, rolling back onto the bed wanting the blankets to brush against her skin, wanting a break from Jonathon's warm skin.

"For now," Jonathon says low in his throat, a suggestive smile playing across his face. Clary rolls on her side, facing away from Jonathon, wanting to sink into only the soft mattress. Jonathon's kept his hands on her the entire day, now wanting some separation; she keeps to the other side of the bed. In the dark she listens to Jonathon's breath, she knows he's staring at her, his hot gaze burns her neck and she won' be able to sleep until he closes those deep, black eyes.

"Can you please stop staring and go to sleep? It's not like I'm going to run screaming from the building now I'm your fiancée," Clary asks in little more than a whisper, trying to slip into sleep.

Jonathon makes a purring sound. "How provocative," Jonathon whispers darkly against her hot neck, trying to get her attention, to get her turned back towards him. His breath blows on the back of her neck as he moves closer.

A shiver runs down her spine. "What?" Clary asks. She knows what he thought to be provocative but she wants to tease him. Make him squirm like he's made her in the past. "'Your fiancée?'" She says slowly, drawing out every syllable and feeling the shudder that runs down Jonathon's body. Clary smiles tiredly and turns back to see Jonathon basically drooling at her. "Well I'll be saying 'wife' in less than a month, so don't get too accustomed to it."

Jonathon smiles but then frowns again as she turns back over, confusion flickering across his face. He's making it very hard to be separate, drawing her into little words games when she needs silence to think through Jonathon's proposal. "Angel? Are you okay?" Jonathon asks, noting how her body is turned away from him on the opposite side of the bed.

"I'm fine Jon," Clary says then adds, "I just need space. Just a little for tonight." What she really needs is time to process her position. She's now her brother's fiancée. My brother's fiancée, she says slowly in her head. She's trying to calculate her mother's reaction and Simon's. She has a pretty good guess what Izzy's will be, she'll take any distraction she can get since her parents officially got divorced a few months ago. She'll jump on the suggestion of a wedding, to dress up, pick flower arrangements, fit dresses, organize the guest list. Yes, Izzy will be ecstatic.

"Okay but can I at least see your face?" Jonathon asks her back still to him.

She lets out a sigh of exasperation. "I guess." She turns toward him but immediately closes her eyes to the light darkness, falling asleep to the ghosting feel of Jonathon's hand on her waist, restraining himself from pulling her closer.

_One Month Later-_

Clary looks up at her brother in his elegantly cut and tailored black suit, shimmering with gold thread stitched into the pockets and along the front. A flash of gold catches on her pure gold chiffon wedding gown, fitted to her figure to accentuate her hips and form. Strapless, it bares her shoulders and chest, flowing down to her ankles in gold sheets and ruffles. Her fiery hair is pinned up with a few stray curls hanging down to frame her face, while a light dusting of gold eye shadow outlines her eyes and cheeks. The Accords Hall stretches out to her right, filled with her friends and family including the new ones made in the Gard. It depressed her slightly when Jonathon didn't have anyone to invite but that didn't matter to him, as long as he had his bride he was happy.

Her mother, _their_ mother sits with Luke in one of the long wood pews brought in to seat the wedding guests. She smiles up at her daughter, keeping her eyes only on her. She was not, surprisingly, shocked to learn about Jonathon's marriage proposal. She didn't particularly like the notion but was satisfied that her daughter was happy with the arrangement. Simon, Izzy, Alec and Magnus sit next to her mother. Clary was correct in her assumption of Izzy's reaction. She was ecstatic, flying into a frenzy to plan her bachelorette party. She even invited Maia who was apparently still living in New York with Jordan. Now she and Jordan sit to the left of Simon but Clary's attention isn't on them or even herself. All her attention is given to Jonathon, standing in front of her, holding both her hands and grinning down at her with probably the brightest smile she has ever seen light Jonathon's face. Broadcasting all his love and words of the last month into his expression

After vows are exchanged a gleaming golden stele, unadorned, is brought out by the priest or bishop or whatever the Shadowhunters have for weddings. Jonathon takes the stele in his right hand and places his left on her shoulder. Before placing the burning tip to her skin he recites the words from the Song of Solomon, "_Set me as a seal upon thine heart," _he places the stele on her chest and the black rune takes shape over her heart. "_As a seal upon thine arm:"_ He moves his stele down to her arm, his hot breath ghosting over her neck. "_For love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame._ And mine are the brightest,_"_ Jonathon whispers in her ear.

Finished the Marks pulse warmth and love through her, Jonathon's love, strong and heavy coursing through her veins. She takes the stele from Jonathon and he opens his shirt for only her to see and repeats the words, letting her admiration, love, concern and all other emotions flare through the stele onto Jonathon's chest and arm. He sucks in a breath as the prominent emotions flood him like they did her. His cheeks flush pink as his smile widens and the man takes the gold stele from them.

"Now your bond is sealed you may place the final seal upon thine lips," says the man. Jonathon, eager for the final seal, grabs her hips and crushes his lips against hers. She wraps her arms around his neck, falling into his body not caring about her mother or her friends watching, just focused on her husband. Not letting her lips go he scoops her up and walks her back down the aisle to the banquet hall.

Jonathon sits impatiently next to her at the dinner table. His hand rests on hers under the table as the servants take away dishes. Everyone else is chattering happily around the banquet hall. Clary can see Jonathon's anticipation, his body quivers with it. Clary is not terribly hungry so she did not eat much of the food. Jonathon now leans down to her ear, his nose brushing against her skin and hot breath sending goose bumps down her neck.

"Ready?" Jonathon whispers, moving ever so slightly to kiss her neck. She smiles and nods. Jonathon and her are supposed to share a first dance after the meal but Jonathon's anticipation is not for that. It is for what is to come tonight, away from prying eyes in the privacy of a dark bedroom. The rest of the guests watch quietly as the couple stands and make their way to the middle of the floor. The string orchestra starts to play a slow, deep concerto. The low notes reverberate in her chest as Jonathon's hands rest on her hips, sweeping her around the dance floor to the music, sweet and low in the air of the hall. She rests her head on his chest as the first dance ends and the others take up the floor and start dancing to the flowing orchestra music. Jonathon's forehead rests on her hair as her arms settle around his neck. He leans down, still moving her around the marble floor, and takes her lips with his. He smiles against her lips as she returns the pressure. His body hums with energy as she pulls back and he sweeps her off the floor. Her mother comes over and Jonathon retreats behind her slightly, still holding her hand.

"Clary, my sweet girl. You've gone and gotten married before I even could see you out of your teenage years," Jocelyn says almost sadly but still smiles, keeping her eyes away from Jonathon who quietly talks to one of his friends. One, amazingly, he made after becoming king. The young boy he talks to is about twenty one, like Jonathon, with pitch black hair and stormy eyes and Jonathon met him while settling disputes with Downworlders. His name is Michael. He's become his best friend aside from Clary.

"Hey mom," Clary says withdrawing her hand from Jonathon's and giving her mother a hug.

"You've grown so much and I could do nothing to stop you. I hope you know that I don't regret raising you in the mundane world, away from Valentine but I do regret you did not get to grow up surrounded by the majesty of the Shadow world," Jocelyn says.

Clary smiles. "I know, I'm just happy I have it now. Did you and Luke enjoy visiting New York again?"

"It was rather windy and I was totally unprepared for it. I guess I've been living too long in Idris," she says with a smile. Clary had offered to have Fairchild manor rebuilt for her and Luke but she refused, claiming it would bring back too many painful memories of Valentine. Instead she and Luke moved into the small Greymark manor on the outskirts of the Glass City.

Clary smiles and pulls her mother into another hug. "I love you mom," she says. "I only wish you could love Jonathon too." Jocelyn sighs against her. They've had this conversation before and had many heated arguments over it.

But she does not start an argument she only says quietly, "If only sweetheart." Jocelyn kisses her on the cheek and takes Luke's hand. He smiles at her before they head off back to the dance floor.

Clary waves goodbye to her mother and Luke, then her friends as Jonathon sweeps her out the door into the Gard hall.

The sky outside is pitch black as the guests leave and Jonathon is in the hall outside their bedroom, telling the guards to ignore the screams and stay at their posts. Faint moonlight filters in through the window and the soft lights overhead catch the veins of gold gems lining her gown. Clary grins at her brother's comment, said in the most nonchalant tone, perfectly normal. Jonathon steps inside the room, glowing with alcohol and joy. He locks the door behind him, eyeing Clary with a predatory glance that sends shivers down her back. She stands a few feet from the foot of the bed as Jonathon crosses the room the draw the blackout curtains and quickly turns out the lights. In the pitch black, she can't see a thing and anticipation builds in her stomach, waiting for her brother to pounce.

She feels a presence come up behind her and the slightest ghost of hot breath blow down her neck before his hands are light, almost hesitant on her hips and his lips graze her neck. She shuts her eyes, the lids making no difference to the darkness of the room. Leaning her head back against Jonathon's chest he slowly pulls her flush with his body. She hears a purr build in the back of her throat and lets it out as Jonathon moves his mouth to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She brings up a hand to fist in his ivory locks and Jonathon growls. His touch used to frighten her, when she first was taken. She used to be afraid of the power and violence that could come from those hands. Now those same strong hands she now knows can be gentle and light as a feather slide up her body to cup her breasts. He kneads them under his palms, making her moan at the pressure and pleasure it sends down her chest.

"I want it off," Jonathon whispers huskily as one of his hands move to the back of her dress the other coming up to rub across her bare chest. His long, artistic fingers trail over her bared skin as the zipper behind her silently is tugged down to the small of her back. As the dress falls to the ground Jonathon runs his hand back up her bare back, making her shiver with the contact of his cool fingers against her hot back. Now in her strapless bra and panties, Clary spins on her heel in the pitch black, reaching out in the darkness to grasp the lapels of Jonathon's suit. His hands settle on her bare hips again as she pulls him down, trusting that he'll know where her mouth is in the dark. His lips land on hers shyly. Clary allows the light pressure, sweet and endearing to last while she pops open the buttons of his shirt front and Jonathon removes his hands to shrug off his suit coat and shirt. Jonathon, the boy she has never known to be shy about anything, she knows why he is now. He has finally gotten his prize, wholly. He has finally gotten his wife and he wants to enjoy every, single, possible, possessing act he can with her. Starting with the sweet and gentle and slow, bringing her closer to him and him closer to her before they become more passionate and heated. She slides her hands down his torso to his slacks, popping the button and letting them fall to the floor. Jonathon kicks out of his shoes and Clary brings a foot up to pry off the straps of her gold heels.

"Where?" Jonathon asks softly against her lips, placing his hands back around her waist then wrapping his arms around her back.

Clary knows exactly to what he refers. He asks if she wants to love on the bed, on the floor, the couch, the shower, the bath. Clary can feel her muscles shake from the dancing and standing earlier this evening and she leans heavily on him as he continues the soft pressure of his lips. His hot body curves against hers as she pulls him into a deeper kiss but he quickly pulls back and nuzzles his face in her neck, softly kissing her pulse point. One hand on her hip, his other moves back to cup her right breast, making her moan again, melting into Jonathon almost collapsing but he holds her up. "Bed," she breathes. "Definitely bed." Jonathon then backs her up, out of the pile of clothes on the ground and making her knee backs connect with the foot of the bed. She begins to fall back but Jonathon catches her with one hand, lowering her into the fabrics swathing the bed. Jonathon climbs on top of her, propping himself on his elbows as his mouth moves from her neck back to her mouth. This time the kiss is heated but still gentle. He deepens it as he presses her body into the bed with his own. The space between them seems eternal, and Clary will not have it. She wants him, in her, on her, against her, not near her with a cold space between them and she can tell he wants it too but wants to take his time, savoring his new wife but Clary wraps her arms around his neck and jerks him down so his body is flush with hers. Jonathon immediately takes to this, moving his now free hands down her sides to the clasp of her bra. It's gone in a second as his hands travel farther down her body. His hot fingers slip into the soft fabric of her panties while he moves his mouth down her chest, kissing between her breasts. Jonathon's finger circles her sweet spot, making her groan as he teases her. He smiles against her chest. She revels in how Jonathon feels pressed against her body with his hands in her panties. Jonathon is her one and only, she was a virgin before Jonathon. Though Jace and she often got down to their undergarments they never actually had sex.

Clary, pulled at by grief of the memory of Jace, immediately distracts herself by dragging an arm down from his neck and digging into his boxers. He is hard and erect underneath her hand, as soon as her fingers stroke him, the fingers stroking her sweet spot jolt, causing a wave of pleasure and a scream to erupt from the sudden onslaught. Jonathon moves his fingers down from her sweet spot to her entrance and he thrusts three in, making her body arc into him. She withdraws her hand from his boxers as he moves his mouth up her chest, pressing sweet kiss after sweet kiss to her skin. Pumping his fingers in and out, making her slick as his mouth comes up to capture hers. Clary moans into his mouth a he thrusts his fingers particularly hard, grazing her walls. His kiss is rougher and she can tell he's mounting the rhythm of the night. Their tongues dance for dominance as Jonathon moves his fingers in and out of her, a slow sensual rhythm at first then speeding to a rough, quick pace. Clary feels on the edge but Jonathon pulls out before she can fall. She lay panting on the bed as Jonathon's mouth travels down her body, thinking it slightly unfair to Jonathon that he be pleasuring her but he is the one going slowly so she might as well let him do what he wants. She bunches her hands in the sheets as Jonathon's hot breath blows against her core, making her shiver with anticipation. He smiles at her shiver before pressing his mouth to her core, darting his tongue out into her inner heat. He nibbles at her making her gasp and writhe beneath him, causing him to have to hold her hips in place with his hands. Her legs have come closer together, trying to rub out the friction themselves but Jonathon nudges them aside again with his nose, kissing her inner thighs before returning to her core. Clary can feel the edge again, she's so close now. One final lick from Jonathon sends her over, her first orgasm, and definitely not the last, of the night makes her scream out.

Jonathon sits back on his heels, watching Clary ride out her orgasm. Panting, she says in a quiet voice, "Don't you want any?"

"Babe, just watching you gets me there. But I suppose if you want…" Jonathon trails off as Clary vigorously nods her head, pulls him down to kiss her and sticks her hand back in his boxers. Jonathon presses against her as he feels the pressure of her fingers, slowly running up and down his shaft. She squeezes as she runs her palm down, making Jonathon arc into her and groan into her mouth. He holds her bottom lip in between his teeth as she palms him for a good three minutes, eliciting multiple moans and groans from him before he finally screams out her name, falling against her sweaty body. Clary shifts underneath him but he quickly wraps his arms around her, holding her in place.

"We're not done yet angel," Jonathon says darkly as he shoves down his boxers, moving aside her legs with his knees, he plunges into her. Him in her is a welcome feeling, him filling her, making himself a part of her and her of him. She loves how he moves farther and farther in with each chaste kiss to her neck, chest and throat. He rolls his hips and she moans lustfully while bucking her hips up to meet his thrust, making Jonathon moan powerfully against her ear, where he was nibbling at her lobe. He now rolls over, bringing Clary to sit on top of him. Now in control, Clary rolls her hips, making Jonathon groan as he grips her knees and his hands slide up her thighs to rest on her hips. She leans down to kiss his neck, biting and nipping gently along his pulse. His fingers dig into her hips as she thrusts onto Jonathon harshly, causing them both to scream. Clary moves down his torso and trails chaste, hot kisses up between his pecks, arching her body into his as her hands run up his arms, bringing them above his head. He doesn't object though he could break her grip at any time, he lets her hold his wrists while she rolls her hips, slowly and repeatedly, pulling growls and moans from Jonathon's throat. After a few minutes of holding his wrists above his head he couldn't not touch her any longer so Jonathon flips them over. He runs his hands greedily over her body, keeping their pace even and fast. Jonathon screams as he's thrown over his edge again and Clary follows shortly. Jonathon pulls out and rests his head on her chest, heaving in gulps of heated air. Her eyes have now adjusted to the darkness and in it she sees the white blond of her brother's hair, specked with gold. She wipes a hand across her cheek and it comes away coated in gold. Jonathon looks up for a moment and some far off light catches the gold now smeared across his face. Clary smiles as Jonathon's grin lights up his golden face in the dark and he buries that gold plated face in her neck, resting on top of her.

She runs her hands through his gold, white blond hair as he smiles against her neck. Their hot, sweaty bodies flush all the way up, everything touching, chests, legs, torsos. Jonathon is drawing slow circles on her side as he breathes in the scent of her.

"Now I'm all dirty, brother," she teases. "And you have managed to share my makeup, though not very cleanly."

"What if I like having you smeared all over me?" Jonathon whispers darkly against her neck.

"Well I don't know about you but I'm a dirty girl. I need to be cleaned," Clary says and doesn't wait long for him to take the hint and sweep her out of bed to the bathroom. He turns on a single light, warmly illuminating parts of the bathroom leaving the other parts in shadows. He turns the shower on and pulls Clary in with him. He kisses her deeply beside the heating stream of water. His hands grip her waist and he turns her around to press her against the cool shower tile. His hands run down her thighs as she reaches a hand back and fists it in his hair, pulling his face down to her neck. He kisses her there and draws the skin in between his teeth, softly nipping as his lower body moves behind her and thrusts up, invading her core. She moans softly as Jonathon's hands come up from her thighs to her breasts. One hand though stays at her waist and wraps around her front pulling her flush against him as his hips thrust up. His other hand kneads her breast, playing with the nipple with his fingers, teasing it pert. His mouth comes around to her front, kissing her jaw before he presses his cheek against hers. Soon she's mewling from his hand on her breast and him in her core, teasing and grazing. He kisses the side of her mouth, dragging his tongue along her lip. She and Jonathon's chests are heaving, drawing in gasps and moans. She can feel his heart pounding against his ribs and on her back, the steam from the shower coats their skin, making them hotter. Jonathon snaps his hips and she screams as he pulls out of her. She turns around and wraps her arms around his neck, leaning her forehead against his. He laughs breathlessly as Clary runs her hands over his high, golden cheekbones trying to wash away the eye shadow under the stream of hot water, smiling. Jonathon's hands come up to rest on hers, stilling her movement and holding her in his black gaze.

"Leave it," he whispers. "Gold is the color of the night, of our love and I want it to last as long as possible."

Clary withdraws one hand from his cheek and runs it over the dark rune on his chest, above his heart. Clary smiles as he sucks in a breath upon her cool touch. "That's what this is for," she whispers back as Jonathon pulls her closer and kisses her, moving his mouth on hers and rolling her lip in between his teeth. The hot water flows down their bodies, causing the black runes permanently burned into their skin to ripple. Clary's hand travels from his chest to his groin and strokes him again, making his body go rigid then melt into hers. She squeezes and he sucks in a breath against her neck. Moving her hand for a few minutes his breathing becomes labored as he reaches his edge once again. He screams into her neck with one final stroke and his arms crush her against him. Clary smiles as Jonathon's hands wrap around her outer thighs and pick her up after the shower is turned off. Clary holds him close as he carries her back to the bed. She holds him to enjoy the sensation of holding him. It's simple, being aware of his body and strength. She sets her chin on his shoulder and wraps her legs around his waist. She feels her breast press against his chest and her torso against his and enjoys the way his body curves to hers. Closing her eyes she relishes the calm as Jonathon lowers her to the bed, he pulls her hair over her shoulder and Clary quickly ties it up out of the way. Jonathon has returned to the slow, meticulous touch of the beginning of the night. His now cool skin brushes along hers as he pulls her under the covers. With the warm sheets over them and their bodies facing each other, Clary wraps a leg around his waist while his legs brush against hers, pulling her closer with his arms looping around her torso.

Clary's body is beginning to slow down, aching and sore in all the right places. She lets her arms fall limp between them as her eye lids slowly close. Jonathon places a long sweet kiss on her forehead before kissing her on the lips for a moment then withdraws to rest his face across from hers, watching her drift to sleep, content in her brother's, her _husband's_, arms. She dreams of dancing endlessly with Jonathon, content to watch his face smile and shine, looking on her with the love of a thousand worlds.


	23. Epilogue- Demon's Offspring

_**Haha guys, fianlly got it written. FYI if you didn't already know... school SUCKS! Okay enjoy the chapter. Review please! ')**_

Clary drops the stick on the bathroom floor, stepping back in horror. She can't be, she's not ready. She tries to muffle a scream with her hand but the strangled cry comes out anyway. She rushes out into the bedroom just as Ry rushes in and she nearly slams into him. He catches her upper arms before she can fall. Clary doesn't try to cover herself, the sports bra and shorts cover enough and Ry has known her for six years being her personal guard he has seen her practically naked.

Tears brim in her eyes as she pulls away from Ry.

"Lady Queen what's wrong?" Ry asks, concern swimming on his features.

"Where's my husband?" she gets out through an almost strangled sob. "Where's Jonathon?" she yells after Ry's moment of silence.

"He's… he's in his usual meeting hall Lady Queen. What do you need?" he asks, blocking the door, clearly trying to calm down the near hysterical Clary.

"I need my husband, get out of the way!" Clary shoves past Ry and rushes down the halls to the meeting rooms where she knows Jonathon to be. Ry is running after her with Roman on her heels but Clary bursts into Jonathon's meeting hall before they can stop her. She bursts into the room, tears spilling down her face as she chokes on her husband's name.

"Jonathon," she cries. Jonathon stands in the middle of a group of male Shadowhunters, Michael at his right and they all lean over a group of maps on the table. Upon her strangled sobs Jonathon looks up in shock to see his wife, standing barely clothed and crying in the doorway. He pushes his way out of the group of men, gawking at their half-naked queen, and rushes to wrap his arms around her, curving his body to shield her from the view of the others.

"Clary, angel, what's wrong?" Jonathon asks, gripping her tightly, surprise, shock and concern spike through his voice.

"I can't do it Jonathon," she sobs. "I'm not ready!" She buries her face in his shirt, letting the tears soak through the fabric.

"Angel you're ready for everything. Please tell me what you doubt yourself in," he whispers against her skin so the people standing at the table, still staring in shock, can't hear. Clary stays silent, crying into his chest and letting Jonathon's worry thread though his veins, knitting his brows and tightening his body. Not wanting Clary to have a break down in front of virtual strangers, Jonathon scoops her up in his arms and she locks her elbows around his neck, burying her face in his neck. Jonathon turns back to the group of Shadowhunters, his wife cradled in his arms.

"Gentlemen, I apologize but as you can see my wife needs me. Michael, please help these men find their way out. We'll continue this tomorrow same time. I must take my leave," Jonathon says, watching as Michael nods and bows along with the rest of the men.

A man, Brutus, speaks up, "There is no need for apologies, your majesty. You are king and your queen deserves the attentions of her king." Jonathon nods toward him and walks out of the room, Clary still clutched in his arms. Ry and Roman had halted outside the meeting hall doors and now fall into step behind them as Jonathon takes her to their room. Gently laying her down on the bed he sits down and pulls her into his lap.

"Angel please tell me what's wrong. I cannot bear your pain. Please let me help you," Jonathon pleads, stroking her hair.

She shakes her head against his chest. "I forgot, I forgot, I forgot. I'm so stupid, I forgot and now I can't go back. I'm not ready," Clary sobs into his body. She sits with her legs coiled underneath her and her arms still settled on his shoulders.

"What did you forget?" Jonathon asks softly, trying to coax answers out of her.

"The barren rune, Jonathon," she stresses. She came up with the barren tune when Jonathon had taken her by surprise and hadn't had time to use protection. She put the rune on the every morning after they had sex but a week ago she had forgotten. "Jon, I'm pregnant. I don't know if I can be a mother. I'm not ready," she says.

Jonathon had gone silent, silent and stiff. His hands laced in her fiery hair and legs cradling her body. "You're pregnant?" he says slowly. Clary nods. "You're pregnant."

Clary just buries her face in his shirt, trying to hide from the shock, the pain. She might not be a good mother. Or what will her child turn out like, having extra angel blood on top of Shadowhunter blood plus demon blood. It might be a monster, it might be an angel, it might be something new but Clary knows she's not ready.

"Clary," Jonathon whispers into her hair. "You are going to be a wonderful mother. A wonderful, fantastical, caring, kind, sweet mother. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, angel. Trust me but I would be worried about me."

Clary looks up confused, into Jonathon's face, blank and staring. "Jon, what do you mean I should be worried about you?"

He smiles weakly. "Angel. Why do I call you angel?"

Because you're a demon. He thinks because he's a demon that he'll be a terrible father, but he's been a wonderful lover and husband. He won't be a terrible father, with all the love he's shown for her he'll devote all his love to his child. Clary swings her leg over him and sits facing him in his lap. She takes his face in her hands.

"You're a demon, that's why but that is also why you have me. That's why you call me angel because I balance you. I make you better but you don't need my help to be a good father," Clary says.

His arms sit around her waist and his face contorts in anguish. "That's not the only thing I'm worried about. What if I turn out like Valentine? I can't always help it. I lived with the man for seventeen years; he's under my skin and in my thoughts. He comes out when I least expect it and I won't let my child be exposed to that."

"And yet I'm still here and I haven't been scared off by the Valentine aspect or the demon aspect, however rarely they come out. I'm hard to get rid of and I don't want to leave. I have held all your darkness in check and will keep it in check so you can be the great father that I know you will be," Clary says resting her forehead on Jonathon's. How did he manage to turn her worry for herself around onto him. He did it on purpose and on accident all at the same time. Direct her fears away from her and replacing them with worry for him. Clever boy.

"But what will happen? The angel and the demon blood. I don't want another monster like me to be brought into the world. It doesn't need another monster, it has so many already," Jonathon says now running his thumbs over her cheekbones.

"Jon, it's not going to be all dark and all light, our child will be the embodiment of our balance. It will be good for the world and even if you do turn to Valentine's influence I will turn you back because you are _mine_ not his. You are mine and our child's, no one else's do you understand me?" Clary presses her body against his, trying to shove down her own worries, knowing that Jonathon's past with Valentine, his scarring. He doesn't want to let himself bleed into another person, especially a child but the contradiction is he's already bled into her, already opened himself up and let everything pour out.

"I hope you're right angel. I don't want my child going through what I had to," Jonathon says closing his eyes as he keeps his forehead on hers.

"Jon, when have I ever been wrong?" Clary asks moving her legs to wrap around his waist, brushing his cheekbones with her thumbs, listening to his sporadic heartbeat.

Jonathon smiles and kisses her softly. After a moment Clary gasps and pulls back. "I need to go tell mom," Clary says trying to climb out of bed.

Jonathon holds her in place, not letting her out of his lap. "Jon," Clary begins.

"Clary, take it one step at a time. Please, you only found out an hour ago. You aren't even sure of yourself. You need time to let it sink in, to process. Slowly." As he says the last words he drags out the syllable and trails his mouth along her neck. Her eyes flutter and she bunches her fists in his shirt.

"Jon, please. I need the distraction," Clary says. She needs to go talk to her mother. She hasn't seen her in four months and she's her mother. She'll know how to deal with a child, albeit a demonic angel child.

"If it's a distraction you want…" His hands slide lower, skimming her shorts waist band. She stops his hands with her own. She takes a moment to steady her rapid breathing.

"I need help Jon, my mom's help," Clary says. Jonathon keeps his mouth on her neck, sucking and nipping the skin with his teeth.

His arms tighten around her. "What about me? I need help too angel. This is all new for me and I need you more. Your mother can wait, at least let me have you until tomorrow."

Clary melts against him, giving into his want, his _need_. "Fine, for tonight Jon. Tomorrow I need to go talk to Jocelyn," Clary says as Jonathon's fingers go into her pants. She jolts at the cool contact against the heat in her pants.

"Then for tonight I'll be your distraction and you'll be mine," Clary nods as Jonathon delicately runs a hand over her stomach and slowly lowers her to the bed, tilting her back against the soft mattress. He kisses all along her stomach, keeping his grip light and careful, as though she might break. Clary closes her eyes and sinks into the bed, keeping a hand in his ivory locks and the other stretches out above her. She begins to fall asleep, drifting in the oblivion between, still conscious of Jonathon's feather light touch yet blacked against reality. A knock on the door draws Jonathon's warm body away from hers. She lets out a moan of complaint, still half asleep.

"Shh," Jonathon whispers, running a caressing hand across her face and into her hair. "I'll only be a minute angel." She grabs on to his hand but he slips out of her grasp to answer the door.

She hears a rustle as the door is pulled open. "Your majesty, the Lady Queen is needed to oversee a trial hearing," an advisor, one of hers, Thomas, says from the door.

"The queen is indisposed. Tell the trial master to deal with it himself, if the matter becomes too grave throw the prosecutor and defendant in the jails to deal with tomorrow," Jonathon says tersely, clearly not wanting to deal with political matters.

"But," Thomas begins but Jonathon quickly cuts him off.

"Are you defying direct orders from your king? I told you the queen is indisposed. Deal with the case yourself!" Jonathon snaps.

"Yes your majesty," Thomas says before scurrying off down the hall.

Clary places a hand on her stomach, a gesture now second nature due to the knowledge that has come to light. She hears Jonathon cross the room and climb onto the bed beside her. He pulls her into him so her body is cradled against him. He puts a hand on her stomach, on top of hers and his breath blows hot against her skin. She shifts so her cheek rests against the warm fabric of his shirt. Jonathon kisses her forehead before laying his cheek against her hair and she fully falls asleep, hoping in the morning she can seek guidance from her mother.

Jocelyn sits at the kitchen counter of the Greymark manor when Clary walks in. Jocelyn is wearing a baggy shirt, one of Luke's and sweatpants. The books laid out in front of her are old and yellowed. Jonathon waits outside with the horses, not wanting to see their mother. Clary knocks on the wood of the door frame she stands in.

Jocelyn looks up and a smile spreads across her face. "Clary! Hey sweetie! What are you doing here? I thought you would be busy with politics."

Clary smiles back but her mother stays seated, oddly. Her mother usually hugs her. She doesn't speak up while sitting down at the counter. She looks over at the books in front of her mother but Jocelyn quickly closes them though not before she sees a title of the chapter, _Werewolf Offspring_.

Clary knits her brow but ignores it as Clary looks back up at her mother. "Um… I came here for your help… with something. To tell you something."

Her mother places her hand over Clary's. "Anything sweetheart, I'm here to help."

"What was it like when you were pregnant with Jonathon?" Clary asks, trying to dance around the subject she came here to talk about.

Jocelyn looks taken aback at this question, opening her mouth for a second then snapping it shut. After a moment Jocelyn speaks slowly, "At first everything was normal." Her look is far away, far back into the memories of Valentine, she hates to do this to her mother but she wants to know what it's like to carry a demon child.

"Then, one day shortly after I thought Luke had died, Valentine had come to me with a sleeping draft. Before that I had had trouble sleeping, clouded with thoughts of grief and death. Valentine said the sleeping draft would help me to sleep but they were only laced with the demon blood. My nightmares became garish and horrific. Now I know the demon blood had affected my system as well, clashing with my Shadowhunter blood because I was a full grown adult. My systems were stronger and resisted the blood but with terrible after affects including the nightmares. Jonathon though was not so lucky; being an unborn child the demon blood had consumed him. At first it had made him restless, he constantly moved and kicked in my stomach. Valentine had continued giving me the sleeping drafts. The pregnancy was not pleasant Clary. It was nightmarish, those nine months still haunt me, though Luke," she smiles brightly and looks down at her hands. "Luke keeps the nightmares at bay."

Clary's eyes had glazed over. Will that happen to her? Her child doesn't have just demon blood though. Will she have nightmares? No, Jocelyn said the sleeping draft caused the nightmares. Clary isn't taking the sleeping drafts. She won't have nightmares, at least she thinks. Jonathon was restless in Jocelyn's stomach. Did that cause her pain? Was it uncomfortable to have a living child kicking around in her stomach. Clary's body starts to quiver; is she ready for a half demon child kicking around inside her.

Jocelyn places her hands on top of Clary's shaking ones on the counter. Jocelyn's palms are unnaturally hot on hers. Clary knits her eyebrows, concern momentarily flashing across her face but is gone as she hears Jocelyn's voice through the cloud in her vision. "Clary. Clary honey, are you okay? Is that all you wanted? For me to talk about Jonathon's pregnancy?"

Clary's eyes focus again on her mother's worried face. "…No, that's not all. I'm," Clary cuts off, trying to gauge how her mother will react. Jocelyn's look is open and concerned. "I'm… pregnant."

Jocelyn's look shuts immediately, fear and horror crossing her face. She withdraws her hands from her daughter's. Clary's heart tears open at her mother's reaction, there goes any chance of help from her.

"You're what?" Jocelyn asks horrified.

"You heard me," Clary says solemnly.

"You let that beast get you pregnant! You are going to let him bring another monster like him into the world?" Jocelyn asks, her voice rising. Clary's anger sparks and she feels the need to defend Jonathon. That is what she does.

"Jonathon is not the monster you knew!" Clary says. "I make him better, he's not a monster and neither is my child! It doesn't have all demon blood like you let Valentine poison you with! My child has angel blood too! And a lot more considering!" Her voice has risen in volume and she stands up though her mother stays seated.

"I let him? I did not let him; he did it against my will! And it doesn't matter if your child, that _thing_, has a drop of demon blood or a gallon clashing with the angel blood, the demon blood will _burn out_ its humanity! Clary how could you let this happen?" Jocelyn yells.

"How could I… It's been happening for almost six years and you have raised a damn finger! I have been preventing the pregnancy for six years! It's not my fault I got pregnant by my _husband_. Who is barely even related to me because of you and your sick late husband. You are the one who married him! You let this happen! If you hadn't let Valentine feed you demon blood, Jonathon wouldn't be like this! He wouldn't need me, or my help! He'd be normal and carefree! I wouldn't be married to him! I'd have a _normal_ brother instead of this screwed up reality! But instead I end up marrying him because he needs me! Because of the poison you let taint him!" Clary yells angrily. She hears the front door open and close. She doesn't care if it's Luke or Jonathon. How dare her mother blame this on her.

"My fault? If it wasn't for Valentine and I, you wouldn't be alive!"

"Don't you dare play that card, I would be alive and so would Jonathon but we would have Luke as a father instead of a mad man who experiments on his own damn children! You could have loved your son instead of losing him but you had to pick Valentine. You had to fall for that so called deceptive charm and ruin not only your life but mine and you son's!"

Jocelyn stares at her, her face red and angered. "I didn't even pick Valentine!" she screams. "He picked me! He chose me!"

"But you could have said no! You could have refused! You could have actually opend your eyes to see that someone already loved you! You could have enjoyed life! You could have married Luke before hell came in a pretty little handbasket before it bew up in your face and carried over to me! You could have had normal Shadowhunter children but you ruined your life by marrying Valentine! You could have had me with Luke, had normal children! You ruined my life because you feared him! You ruined Jonathon's life because of your fear and blind sightedness. You took my memories; you shunned your own son. You ruined your children's lives because of your stupid decisions. And you have the nerve to blame me, _blame_ me, for something that was bound to happen all because of you and that sick man! Don't try to blame me because this is all your fault! I had come here for help because I'm scared and don't know what to do. I had hoped to find the comfort of a real mother. One that was absent for nearly twenty six years, hiding me away and taking my life with it because of your choices! But what I find is a hateful, culpable, blind sighted woman who can't even overcome some foolish fear of a child, who isn't even born yet nor is tainted completely, to help your only daughter through a pregnancy like a good mother would! Your only daughter who is scared out of her wits because she doesn't know what do with a child, let alone a half angel, half demon child! I needed your help but you refuse to give it! Just like you did seven years ago, you refused to help me understand the Shadow World. Instead you took that stupid elixir and left me to fend for myself! So _don't you dare_ blame me for your mistakes, Jocelyn! I hope you're happy you have now not only driven your son away but your daughter as well!"

With that, leaving Jocelyn sitting wide eyed and open mouthed at the counter, she didn't even have the nerve to stand, Clary spins on her heel to see Jonathon standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a grim expression on his face.

Clary brushes past him to the horses outside. Walking down the steps to the stables she passes Luke who smiles but seeing her red face, streaked with furious tears, he reaches out to her but she jerks away, keeping her gaze on the steps.

"Don't touch me!" Clary screams, Jonathon is close behind her but Luke ignores him.

"Clary what's wrong?" Luke asks reaching for her again but she tears away down the steps and yells back at Luke.

"Why don't you go ask your wife!" Clary storms into the stables to Stormer, the grey mare she had first ridden before the crowning ball. She mounts her mare and takes off through the long stretch of the rolling, green hills of Brocilend Plain. Stormer can sense Clary's anger and charges through the grass. It only takes a few minutes to get back to the Glass City and she pushes her mare through the streets. Back at the Gard stables she dismounts Stormer as a stable hand comes up to take the reins. One wicked glare from Clary that could cut glass, sends him scurrying away. She needs to calm down, tears streak down her face as she pulls the saddle off her mare. How could her mother throw her out in the cold? Reject her when she needed her most. She hasn't needed her much for the past twenty six years but when she has she hasn't been there. This is the _only _time she really needs her, the only time that she has no one else she can go to. She doesn't know when but she's collapsed to her knees, shaking with sobs and anger.

Stormer bows her head and nudges her shoulder with her nose. Clary reaches a hand up and pats Stormer's nose before the mare walks away to munch on some hay in the corner of her stall. Clary lets her head fall into her hands. Her mother, her _mother_ betrayed her, left her to wander in the dark and hope she comes out unscathed. Strong hands lift her up off the ground, pulling her against a warm body. Her sobs wrack her body as she cries out words, unintelligible words but something possibly along the lines of calling her mother horrid things, yelling out how she abandoned her and Jonathon. How she was never there for them, always running and hiding.

She doesn't know how much longer later but she is sprawled out on the bed, shaking and spasming with sobs. She's not conscious of anyone but she knows someone is here, next to her. Her face is buried in the sheets and her fists bunched up in a shirt. Not hers, the person's. She calms down enough to be aware of a hand stroking her hair, a body next to hers, arms around her, warm and comforting but she's too warm, too hot. Her breathing is rapid and it feels like her throat is closing off. Her breaths become shorter and shorter and her chest hurts with the effort to breath. Maybe she should stop breathing. A voice breaks through the haze, the pain.

"Clary! Clary! I need you to focus! Focus on me, breathe, please, breathe!" Jonathon holds her against his chest. Her head hurts so much, her chest is on fire. She can now see Jonathon, holding onto her. "In and out! Clary, look at me, you need to breathe! Breathe with me, please!" Jonathon's words slam against her head, the noise too painful but she watches his chest, rise and fall, rise and fall, forcing her lungs to suck in air along with his. Jonathon cups her face in his hands, kissing her forehead and hugging her close. She can breathe again; the cool air fills her lungs. The crisp intake of breath almost hurting. She can focus; she focuses in Jonathon, the silver in his eyes, the ivory locks curling around his face. Then everything goes black and she falls against the bed.

Clary falls unconscious onto the bed, her red hair splaying around her. Thank the Angel; if she stayed awake any longer she would have had a full scale panic attack. Now her breathing is normal if not a little rapid but she won't be suffocating anytime soon. He had walked in on the last half of the heated argument between their mother and Clary. _I'd have a _normal_ brother!_ She had yelled. A normal brother. Did she want one? No, it had been the heat of the moment and delirious rage had been pulsing through her, he could feel it through his wedded union runes. The pain in her last words had driven him through. _I hope you're happy now you have not only driven your son away but your daughter as well!_ She's never talked about her mother more than… actually thinking about it Jonathon can't remember when she's talked about their mother.

Jonathon gathers Clary's limp form and tucks her under the sheets. He kisses her forehead and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. "My poor angel," Jonathon whispers. The pain on her face, on her body was horrible. Finding her on the stable floor, hunched over and sobbing had torn his heart to pieces. She had called their mother such horrible things. What had started that argument? She had gone in to tell their mother she was pregnant and he walks in to find her screaming her lungs out, screaming how Jocelyn has lost not only her son but her daughter. Anguish, heartache, bitterness, shock, none of these could describe what was written on her face. Jonathon hears a knock on the door, he walks over to the door to find a medic standing there, with her bag full of medical supplies.

"You called your majesty? Is the queen okay?" The short woman, in white garb with grey hair asks.

"I'm not sure that's why I called you," he snaps. "I just need her vitals checked, make sure she and the baby are okay." Jonathon steps aside letting the elderly woman in.

Her eyes widen as she sees Clary passed out on the bed. "The queen is pregnant?" She says astonished.

"You are to tell no one until I give my word. Is that understood?" Jonathon says adamantly.

She nods hurriedly and walks over to Clary, pulling back the covers and laying out her supplies on the nightstand. She pulls up Clary's shirt as Jonathon pulls up a chair, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his fist while he watches the medic press the stethoscope to Clary's chest and back. He watches as the medic picks up a strap to wrap around Clary's arm, taking her blood pressure. Clary stirs as the the strap is taken off, she lets out a weak cry and Jonathon is over by her side in a second. He brushes a hand over her hair, kissing her forehead and whispering soothing words in her ear.

A tear leaks out of her eye and she starts to mumble something. Jonathon leans closer, searching her face for… something.

"Jon?" she says weakly.

"I'm right here angel," Jonathon whispers. The medic has stepped back for moment, giving her king and queen some space.

"Jon, why is it so dark? Mother's left me again. She's left me all alone again, left me alone in the dark, except you. Jon?" Clary screams, sitting upright, clutching at her heart with tears once again flowing down her cheeks. Jonathon watches as her eyes search the room and when her eyes land on him she flings her arms around his neck. Her body shakes against his and Jonathon tightens his arms around her. He tries to calm her down, stroking her hair, kissing her cheek. He knows her emotions are now at an all-time high with the pregnancy and he's doing his best to calm her down.

"Jonathon, she… she called it a monster. She blamed me! Jon, you didn't see her face, her disgust. You don't know what it's like to see that. From my own mother," Clary whispers in his ear.

"No, angel. I don't know and I can't begin to understand but I'm here for you. I'm always here for you," Jonathon says. "Can you calm down for a moment so I can make sure you're okay? Please, just for a moment." Clary nods and Jonathon pulls away. He watches on the side of the bed as the medic presses against her throat and ribs. She tenderly presses against her stomach, watching for any reaction. When the medic seems to deem Clary healthy she packs her things, bows and leaves the room.

Clary stares blankly at her hands, resting in her lap. Jonathon picks her up and settles her in his lap. He kisses her neck, trying to distract her thoughts.

"My own mother. How could she?" She says her voice hollow and raw.

"Angel, I don't know. I don't know, sweet sister," Jonathon says hugging his sister to his body, trying to keep her from shattering.

"I never want to see her again. Ever, no matter how much she…" Clary stops and melts against Jonathon, laying her head on his chest and closing her eyes. After a while Jonathon realizes she's passed out again. He kisses her temple and places her back under the covers. The meeting he was in yesterday and the trial Clary was supposed to oversee need to be attended to but Clary is in no condition to handle them. Jonathon doesn't want to leave her alone but her guards, those two men Ry and Roman, they'll watch over her well. They seem devoted to her, like they'll do anything to protect her. It's amazing how much loyalty this little redhead can inspire. Tucking the blankets up to her chest and kissing her on the forehead again, he draws the curtains and shuts off the lights, exiting the room to find those two guards standing outside the door.

He turns to the younger of the two, Ry, he thinks, the more talkative one and says, "I'll be back in a few hours. No one gets in; do you hear me? No one but me, even if she wakes up."

Ry salutes, though a bit callously. He doesn't seem to like him too much, ever since that day Clary found out but this guard respects him all the same. "Yes your majesty, she'll be safe while you're gone."

"She better be." Jonathon strides down the hall to the meeting hall to resume his work with Michael and Brutus on some rogue werewolf pack, who were running around east Germany, slaughtering Shadowhunters. He was originally going to leave for a week or so to help hunt them but since he found out Clary's pregnant and the fight she just had with Jocelyn there is no chance he is leaving her alone. Striding into the meeting hall he finds Michael, Brutus, Dylan, and Joshua, Jonathon's advisors, standing around the relief map of eastern Germany. Upon seeing their king, his hair disheveled and his travelling clothes dirty, bow quickly. Jonathon nods in acknowledgement and Michael, his best friend and top advisor, walks over to him.

"Hey, is Clary okay?" Michael has become so close to both Jonathon and Clary that they have let formalities slip. Jonathon sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Right now, I don't know. We just went to see her mother… and it was ugly," Jonathon says under his breath.

"That's not all, I can see it. What was she crashing in here for yesterday?" Jonathon gaze sharpens and he directs at Michael. He raises his hand in surrender.

"Okay… Subject for later then. The werewolves have murdered two more Shadowhunters, leaving them in the woods. The Berlin Institute is requesting troops be sent in to put down the pack," Michael says walking with Jonathon to the rest of the men.

"Of course, these werewolves will be brought in for a trial. We need to make sure they are acting on their own but for now no werewolf leaves or enters Idris. We don't want this turning into an uprising. Brutus, take your best team to the Berlin Institute, I want this under control by the end of the week. Understood?"

"Yes your majesty. Of course, but with all due respect, I was under the impression that you were coming with us."

"Something has come up with my wife and I cannot leave her alone at the moment. I trust you can handle things without me?"

"Of course, I wish the queen a speedy recovery," Brutus says before bowing and taking his leave to collect his team together. Dylan and Joshua pull out some charters now the werewolf matter is getting resolved. The charters concern the manors and properties out in the country, if they're maintaining the vacant ones, the residents contributing to the crown. The people on the outskirts, near Brocilend Forest, making sure the Downworlders who still live in the forest are kept under control. They review citizen applications for Downworlders who want to become citizens of Alicante, who want to live in the city. Or want the protection of the crown from rogue Downworlder clans. The Seelie Court is still in an alliance with Jonathon and the crown but he hasn't heard from them in years.

After the forms were approved by Jonathon and archived by Joshua, Jonathon goes to the court room to oversee the trial Clary was supposed to oversee yesterday. Jonathon's mind is elsewhere as the defendant makes his claim. He allows his mind to wander because he already knows the defendant is guilty, he can see it in his stance and eyes, posture and face. He has to let the trial play out though, letting the defendant try to make his case.

Drifting back to Clary, he wonders if she's still in bed. Or up and wandering around, distraught and alone. He starts fidgeting in his throne, anxious to get back to Clary. The prosecutor is rambling, drifting in his case to irrelevant things. He is grating against Jonathon's nerves, drawing out this case and his time away from Clary. He know he shouldn't snap but it's almost impossible not to, the prosecutor has now drifted into how a piece of gold cannot just up and disappear, how it is inhumanely possible unless a warlock was involved and even then it would leave magic traces, blah, blah, blah.

"Enough! You have proved your point!" Jonathon snaps. The audience, judges and those involved turn in shock towards their king. "Judges take your leave; make your decision, quickly." The judges stand and hurry off to their conference to make a judgment. The rest of the court is silent, complete and utter silence. If Jonathon had a pin he would be able to hear it drop from the other side of the room. Well maybe not the best analogy because even if the room was in a total uproar, which he would never let happen, he would still be able to hear it drop.

"I never said you couldn't talk," Jonathon says tersely to the court. The men and women, Downworlder and Shadowhunter begin to converse quietly, nervously then settle into comfortable chatter after a few moments of undisturbed speech. Jonathon leans his forehead on his open palm, rubbing at the oncoming headache from these nuisances.

Clary never gave him a headache. She always relieved them with her soft skin and gentle voice, her caressing touch and gossamer hair. He can practically feel, with his eyes closed and covered by his hand, Clary's hand running down his arm, soothing him. He knows she isn't here though and his headache pierces the back of her neck. Clary oversees most of these trials. How can she stand it?

She's patient, that's how. She uses time and kindness to help the people through their troubles. No wonder all the Shadowhunters she crossed paths with loves her. The public adores her, wholly and absolutely. No one can resist those kind emerald eyes and gentle yet stern personality. Her kind strength radiating from her beautiful form draws in and melts even the hardest shell. And she's all his, he gets all that kindness and strength, she's even cracked his hard shell.

"Your majesty," one of the judges says, causing Jonathon to draw his hand away from his face to see the older man standing before him. "We've reached a verdict." The judge turns to the court to announce the board of judge's decision. "We have found the defendant guilty. He shall serve three years in prison." The judge turns toward Jonathon again, seeking approval. Jonathon nods and the guards come in to take the criminal away. Jonathon doesn't spare another minute in that horrid courtroom. He stands causing the rest of the court to stand, bowing their heads as he stalks out of the hall.

He's been gone for a good six hours, much longer than he anticipated. He sees the two guards he left still standing in front of the door to his rooms, where Clary might still be sleeping. He nods to the guards, exhaustion trying to work its way to his skin, trying to be shown, but Jonathon keeps his strong, stern composure until he enters his room. Inside, with the doors closed, his shoulders sag and his muscles threaten to collapse. Looking at the bed he doesn't see his angel, he sees empty, thrown back sheets but no angel. He frowns, turning to scan the room he sees Clary sitting curled on the couch with a sketch book on her lap. Her shoulders are hunched and her body is rigid. Jonathon's lips tighten in a flat line as he walks over to her. He sits down and pulls her into his lap, with their legs stretched out in front of them. She doesn't seem to notice him, just continues to draw in her book but her body instinctively melts into him.

Jonathon says nothing as he watches Clary sketch. Intricate lines and patterns flow from her pencil forming a familiar angular face with high cheekbones and rough, black eyes. Jonathon's chin is tilted up so he looks down with a smug, half smile playing across his superior face. Done with his face Clary moves onto draw his upper body, naked. She defines his muscles and seemingly makes him glow. Then she adds black, soaring wings, blossoming from behind him. The black of the wings only makes the glow of his body stand out. He looks like a dark angel, forceful and avenging. Jonathon can't help but gawk at Clary's talent. He leans in and kisses her neck which she immediately leans into, pressing her back against his stomach.

She closes the sketch book and settles back against his body. Without a word spoken between them, he knows what she wants. He lets her head lay on his chest and her hand rest on front of her face, drawing idle circles on the fabric of his shirt. Jonathon can feel her cool fingers through the shirt on his skin. With one hand on the back of the couch and the other on her hip, he drops off to sleep, still amazed at the patience she must demonstrate in the bromidic court rooms and still conscious of the little circles, sweeping flames up his body.

Jonathon is asleep within the minute she settles against his body. Yet she continues moving her fingers over his chest. That horrible nightmare, her mother had been with her, holding her hand, guiding her through the dark but never illuminating what lay before her and it had frustrated her so thoroughly she wanted to scream. Then her mother's hand disappeared completely, the only signal to the disappearance the whispered words, _It's a monster! It's your fault!_

She had woken up screaming, screaming her frustration, desperation, betrayal and pain. She found Jonathon waiting for her and relief that she was not alone had flooded her, consumed her anger and pain but as soon as she had fallen back asleep the nightmare had returned, going on for hours until finally she had woken, screaming her head off until Ry and Roman had burst in and tried to calm her down. Ry had wrapped her in his strong arms and tried to soothe her shaking body by holding her. Eventually the tremors had stopped and she had politely waved Ry and Roman away. Leaving her to pace the room, trying to get the nervous energy, the painful energy out. After what seemed like hours of pacing and still no sign of Jonathon, she had sat down on the couch and decided to draw. The second her pencil touched paper Jonathon had walked in. She was barely aware of him through her somewhat depressed haze as he slid behind her and drew her into his lap. She took immediate comfort in his warm body as she continued to draw. Jonathon sat behind her, a warm, welcome prescence, as she drew. The lines became sloppy near the end, due to her utter exhaustion but they were such fine mistakes that Jonathon wouldn't have noticed. Finally she closed her sketch pad, wanting to lay down in the comfort of her brother's arms. She could tell he was worn out completely but was only keeping himself awake for her, in case she needed to talk but honestly she doesn't even know how to begin that sentence so she laid down on his chest so he could sleep.

And so he does with Clary watching the rise and fall of his chest, trying to let the steady rhythym sooth her to sleep but her mind won't let her. She sits up as carefully as she can and grabs her sketch book. Still in his lap with an ever present hand on her hip she begins to draw. Something she hasn't thought about in years. Something that her mother took from her but she got back six years ago. A hazy memory, one that she had taken, one of her mother, painting. The Fairchild manor, before Valentine burned it, immortalized in her mother's painting with large turrets and tall walls with the hills dipping and swopping behind it. Clary never got to see the Fairchild manor, except for the empty husk of its remains and now, she doesn't ever think she'll see her mother again. Nor does she want to so she decides to immortalize her and her childhood home in a happy place, a time when Jocelyn was happy, drawing and remembering her home. Now as Clary looks at the sketch all she can see is her mother's angry, horrified face, screaming, "_It's a monster!"_


	24. Epilogue- Alexandra Sera Morgenstern

**_Hope you guys like this chapter. It's kind of like a bunch of snippets, but I hope they're well written. I really want reviews for this one because this might be the last one but I think I will post one more. Maybe a finale thing or another epilogue than a finale chapter. Anyway enjoy! ;)_**

Clary screams as it feels like her insides are being torn apart. She feels Jonathon's hand squeeze hers tightly as she screams. She lies on a bed in the medical ward, sweat dripping from her brow and the medic at the foot of the bed.

"One more push your majesty," the medic says.

Before Clary can comply a messenger comes dashing into the medical ward. Jonathon's face flares in absolute anger that this man would dare walk in on a royal birth.

"Get the hell out!" Jonathon yells above Clary's screams.

"But… but your majesty the queens mother needs to see her," the messenger stutters.

"Now?! Are you blind?" Jonathon yells.

"Get him out!" Clary screams, and with that final scream she falls back against the bed, the baby in the medic's arms. Clary's panting, leaning against the bed.

Guards come into the medical ward and drag the messenger out. Jonathon is still glaring out the door, where the messenger was dragged out. The medic circles the bed with the baby cradled in her arms and Clary watches the white bundle squirm as she hears the baby's quiet cries. It's odd; Clary always knew that babies cried loudly, not the soft mumblings her child is making now.

"Jon," Clary says tiredly, smiling, as the medic places the child in her mother's arms. Jonathon turns back to see Clary smiling down at the little girl with a fluff of white blond hair. This little girl squirming in her arms is so beautiful, her slightly chubby cheeks angled like Jonathon's handsome face. The little girl opens her eyes and Clary gasps, expecting black eyes paired with her white blond hair but she finds striking green eyes. They're not quite the emerald green of Clary's eyes but a dark hunter green, darkened by her demon blood. Clary doesn't care; she is just overjoyed that she is holding her beautiful little girl, healthy, in her arms.

Jonathon wraps an arm around her shoulder and leans down to kiss Clary on the cheek as they both look at their beautiful daughter. She squirms around, the cold air touching her completely bare body. The medic comes over with a fluffy white blanket to wrap around their little girl.

"She's got our eyes," Clary says as the blanket is secured around the little girl's body.

Jonathon chuckles and buries his face in her neck, still keeping his eyes on his daughter. "What's her name?" He asks softly.

Clary kisses the little girl's forehead. "Alexandra Sera Morgenstern," Clary says.

"I love it. Alexandra," Jonathon whispers, he turns back to his daughter. "Hello little Alex. Welcome to the Shadow World."

Alex focuses her eyes on her father, confusing Clary, babies can't focus their eyes but Alex stares intently at Jonathon. Focusing on his face her expression seems like she's deliberating something.

"Alexandra," Clary says, trying out her daughter's name. The baby eyes snap from Jonathon's to Clary's, a smile breaking across her small cheeks. She starts laughing and reaching her hands up out of her blanket. Clary smiles back and nuzzles in Alex's neck making a fit of laughter burst from the child.

Clary pulls back as Alex plays with a lock of her fiery hair, waving it in front of her face, marveling at the bright shock of color. "Whose blood do you suppose it is?" Children don't develop these basic motor skills this fast. It can only be her extra angel blood inherited from Clary or Jonathon's demon blood or both.

"I suppose it's both but she seems nothing like me. She has all your radiance and kindness, look at the way she plays with her hair," Jonathon says sweetly. He smiles down at his daughter twirling the lock of fire in her hands. Her eyes have taken on an intent, focused look, trying to figure out the long soft fire. Clary laughs a little causing her chest with Alex sitting on top of it to bounce up and down. Alex laughs.

Clary remembers a few minutes earlier, when the messenger came in. _The queen's mother needs to see her._ Clary doesn't want to see her, she hasn't spoken to her since that horrible fight. Clary's face sombers as she thinks of her mother standing in the hall. She can't imagine what her mother's emotion are, anger, regret, emptiness. She doesn't know what her emotion is either she just knows she doesn't want to deal with her. Not after just having a child and her hormones raging.

"Clary, what is it?" Jonathon asks, concern crossing his brow.

Clary hugs her daughter closer, trying to protect her from her mother's words that float through her head. "Can you go deal with Jocelyn? I don't want to see her." Clary doesn't take her eyes off of Alex as Jonathon kisses her cheek, muttering an assurance before leaving the room to go talk to their mother. Her daughter continues to play with the strand of red, the medic comes over to congratulate her and take down the date and time of birth, her daughter's name, weight, hair color and eye color for the archives of birth. Even Shadowhunters keep records, population records to know if the Shadowhunter race is dying out or not.

Jonathon comes back in with a shocked expression plastered on his face. Clary doesn't notice until he sits down in the plush chair next to the bed with a big _thunk_. Clary glances at him for a moment before returning to gaze at her daughter but reviewing the image in her head she looks back over at him, knitting her brow.

"Jonathon?"

"Clary I'm sorry but you need to go talk to mother. I'll look after Alex," Jonathon says.

"Jonathon, I can't. I haven't talked to her in almost a year, nor do I want to talk to her," Clary says frowning down at Alex.

"Clary, you need to talk to her."

"Jonathon," Clary begins but something in Jonathon's face quiets her. She sighs. "Fine, help me up."

Jonathon takes Alex, cradling her in one arm while hoisting Clary up with the other. She leans on him as they walk to the restroom. Alex giggles as she paws Jonathon's shirt and Clary steps into the bathroom. There is a cushioned bench in the bathroom, so after Clary strips and climbs into the shower to wash off the blood, Jonathon sits down, cradling Alex in his arms. Smiling a brilliant white smile and letting his daughter play with his fingers, grabbing onto them with her soft, delicate grip.

Clary washes all the blood and sweat off, tying her damp hair up in a neat ponytail, little strands hanging down around her face. She dries off, watching Jonathon play with Alex and smiles as she dons some sweatpants and a really loose sweatshirt. Jonathon stands and Clary takes Alex from Jonathon as he wraps his arm around her waist. Alex's fascination with her hair continues as Jonathon helps her down the hall to where Jocelyn is waiting in the foyer with Luke, holding the tiny hands of a dark haired child between them.

Clary stops dead in her tracks as she sees the timid smile on Jocelyn's face, looking at her. The little boy between them looks up and smiles at the sight of familiar red hair. The boy looks familiar but Clary can't place it.

"Mom…" Clary says, locking her gaze with the little boy between Luke and Jocelyn.

Jocelyn holds up her hand, an apologetic look crossing her face. "I'm sorry for coming here unannounced after so long. Especially after…" Jocelyn trails off then blinks. "Clary, this is your little brother, Jason," Jocelyn says, still smiling shyly.

Clary doesn't know how to react. She just stares at Jason. Brother? No her brother is standing behind her with a hand on her waist. "How old?" Clary asks cautiously, sinking back into her brother, the older one.

"Eight months," Jocelyn says.

Eight months. Nine months ago Jocelyn would have been eight months pregnant. Nine months ago she had the argument with her mother. That's why she didn't stand, the baggy clothes. _Werewolf Offspring. _ He's Luke's. _Luke keeps the nightmares at bay._ Some of the anger towards her mother dissipates, almost all of it; she might not have meant what she said. During Clary's pregnancy she was at an all-time high for hormones and she had yelled nonsense at Jonathon if he did anything wrong, afterward though, when Clary calmed down she would realize the weight of her words and be ashamed she had even spoken them. She would apologize to Jonathon but he always waved them away, understanding that Clary was under a lot of stress with the baby. But those words her mother said had to have come from somewhere.

She'll deal with it when she feels up to it, when she hasn't just given birth. She just smiles hesitantly and looks down at the little boy with dark hair and Luke's eyes with the pretty features of Jocelyn. She looks at how Jason holds himself, tall and proud, very strong for an eight month old.

"Hi Jason, I'm Clary," she says sweetly. She hands Alex to Jonathon and bends down to greet her half-brother, leaning against Jonathon's legs. Luke and Jocelyn quietly prompt Jason, who shyly walks forward.

"Hi," Jason says shyly, wringing his hands behind his back.

"Aren't you a handsome boy? You have your dad's hair," Clary says softly, smiling at Luke's dark hair on this small boy and his piercing blue eyes.

The boy smiles and his eyes flash, for a moment they turn canine but go back to their normal, brilliant shade of blue, Luke's eyes, both pairs. "I like your hair. It's like mommy's," Jason says. Clary's impressed, eight months and he's already standing and talking.

"Thank you Jason," Clary says and stands back up. "Have you met Jon yet?"

Jason nods quickly. "He's my brother, he's kind of scary," Jason says still wringing his hands and looking up at Clary with a smile.

Clary laughs quietly. "Yes, he is kind of scary." She leans down again to come level with Jason's face. "Just between you and me, I like scary." Jason smiles and laughs.

"You're nice, I like you," Jason says with the slight lisp of a child.

"Don't tell Jon," Clary says, laughing again. Jason smiles again and walks back to Jocelyn and Luke. Luke picks Jason up and she sees her mother staring at the white bundle in Jonathon's arms. Luke says something to Jocelyn. There is still a safe space between the two pairs, a tense, angry sort of air.

Jocelyn looks regretful, pained as she moves her eyes to her daughter's. "I'm sorry Clary. I said things that I never meant and the moment you walked out of the manor I immediately wished to take them back," Jocelyn says sadly.

Clary takes a deep breath as Jonathon pulls her to him with his free arm, Clary takes Alex from him and his other hand settles on her waist. Jocelyn's eyes flick down to Alex. "As you can see I don't have the energy to deal with this particular conversation but I understand and I'm sorry too," Clary says, leaning against Jonathon as her muscles start to cry out in exhaustion. Jocelyn seems to brighten.

"May I see?" Jocelyn motions to Alex, giggling in her arms, reaching her hands up to play with her mother's hair. Clary nods and Jocelyn steps forward, looking down in the white bundle. Alex's eyes move to Jocelyn who gasps at the precision her granddaughter already has.

"What's her name?" Jocelyn says, gawking at Alex, who gawks back seeing the same fiery hair on this strange woman that is on her mother. Alex's big, dark green eyes are wide as she looks at her grandmother.

"Alexandra," Clary says, watching her mother watch Alex.

"That's beautiful," Jocelyn says. She raises her hand as if wanting to brush it over Alex's forehead. She holds back though, sensing her daughter's tension. "How old is she?" Jocelyn asks, letting her hand fall back down by her side.

"About an hour," Clary says faintly, her strength is fading and Jonathon supports her as her body sinks into his.

Jocelyn's eyes widen. "Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed? You just gave birth, you should be resting," Jocelyn says shocked.

"Jon said I needed to come see you," Clary says.

Jocelyn looks up at Jonathon. "I didn't mean right after she gave birth! Go get her to bed! Take care of your wife for Angel's sake!"

Clary laughs at her mother's suppressed anger. Jonathon doesn't say anything. Even though Clary can barely stand she clutches Alex in her arms tightly. Jonathon senses that she is about to collapse, so he sweeps her up carefully and Alex rests on her stomach with Clary's arms still securely around her.

"Mommy, is she okay?" Jason asks from his perch on Luke's hip. Jason's face is worried but Clary can't see farther than him. Her eyelids droop heavily and her body sags in her husband's arms.

Jonathon is the one who responds, "She is fine, Jason, thank you for asking. She just needs to rest now. It was nice to meet you." His words are soft and genuine which surprises Clary but she doesn't show it, exhaustion dragging at her, begging her to sleep. "Jocelyn, Luke," Jonathon says nodding his goodbye and leaving down the hall to the bedroom instead of the medical ward so he can settle Clary down in their voluminous, cushioned bed. Not the hard, sheeted one in the ward. Alex coos as she looks up at her father's under profile. Clary's eyes flutter and her head rests against Jonathon's chest.

"So…" Clary murmurs weakly. "A little half-brother." Her smile is small but still noticeable.

Jonathon leans down and kisses her forehead. "Shh, angel you need to rest," Jonathon says gently. As if Alex could understand her father she yawns and closes her eyes. Jonathon smiles at the little girl lying on his wife's stomach.

He walks them into their bedroom and lays his wife and daughter down on the fluffed bed, the maids had pulled back the covers and the sheets are fresh Egyptian cotton and furred blankets, creating an alcove of blankets and pillows. He settles them into the alcove and Clary places Alex in between her body and the wall of dark pillows. Alex immediately goes to sleep but Clary stays awake barely keeping her eyes open. Jonathon lies down next to her on top of the blankets, stroking her hair.

"You should go to sleep," Jonathon says, kissing her forehead and neck, her slightly bare back.

"But what if Alex wakes up?" Clary mumbles, curling around Alex, nuzzling her under her chin.

Jonathon sweeps a curl behind her ear. "That's what I'm here for," Jonathon whispers, trying to soothe her to sleep.

Her voice gets quieter, she's reluctant to fall asleep but Jonathon curled around her, the blankets draped over her and her daughter, sleeping soundly, surprisingly all tug her deeper under the haze of sleep.

"Don't you have royal stuff to do though?" Clary asks, trying to reason with herself that she needs to stay awake for Alex.

"After my wife just gave birth and is barely conscious? I don't think so angel, I'm staying right here. Just go to sleep, if little Alex wakes I'll take care of her. Okay?" Jonathon murmurs his voice getting lower and quieter, soothing and comforting. He's doing a damn good job of putting her to sleep. Finally, she drifts off to sleep, listening to a new, tiny heartbeat.

Clary wakes up, sometime after midnight, Jonathon at her back and Alex staring at her in her swath of blankets. Her hunter green eyes slide over her mother's face. Clary smiles sleepily, realizing her daughter had crawled out of her blanket swath and sits in front of her face, her little child's hand resting on her cheekbone. Alexandra starts to giggle, she seems to love to giggle, making Jonathon take in a deep breath, rolling over on his side and running a hand down Clary's side. He kisses her neck as he watches Alex play with her mother's hair.

Alex, taking a large cluster of her fiery hair, parts it with her clumsy hands. She bursts out laughing, a giant fit of laughter that echoes off the walls of their bedroom. Alex falls back into the wall of blankets behind her, grasping her feet and rolling around. Alex's laughter is contagious and soon Clary starts giggling. Jonathon keeps his hold on Clary and starts chuckling, the sound reverberating through Clary's back. Alex eventually stops giggling and now stares at her parents laughing, almost in awe that the same sound that came from her can sound so different from another person.

Jonathon continues his deep, quiet laugh and reaches over Clary to pick Alex up. He brings her over Clary's tired body and sits Alex on his stomach, playing with her hands while she tries to clutch his fingers. Clary laughs a little and snuggles up against Jonathon, watching her husband play with her child. Jonathon wraps an arm around her shoulders, tucking her next to his body while keeping one hand free for Alex to play with.

Clary's short bought of consciousness is coming to an end, exhaustion sinking back into her mind but Alex is wide awake, swinging around her clumsy arms, trying to catch Jonathon's quick fingers.

"You can go back to sleep, angel. You need it. I'm very much awake, I can take care of little Alex," Jonathon whispers into her hair.

Clary is slightly skeptical about leaving Alex with Jonathon; she doesn't know how he deals with children but from what she's seen he's sweet and gentle, playful, even with Jason. Jonathon can sense this resistance and draws her into a kiss, forcing her body to melt into his and her muscles to relax.

"Go to sleep or I'll put a knock out rune on you," Jonathon whispers. He doesn't threaten but she knows he's serious and at the moment Alex seems to be enjoying herself, Jonathon completely calm and awake. She lets herself drift to sleep in Jonathon's arms, listening to her daughter's laughter.

Jonathon holds Clary as she falls back to sleep. He was serious when he said he would put a knock out rune on her. Her body is completely exhausted; she should rest for at least a few days. He could see the look of concern on her face as she fell asleep. She's concerned that he'll hurt Alex, but he knows he won't, not a little child barely a day old, especially his own. He would never lay a hand on her, not this innocent, beautiful little girl. The smile that had broken on her face once she took hold of Clary's hair was beautiful and her ability to laugh and grab already amazed him. The mixture of blood must be extraordinary. Alex squeals and pulls Jonathon out of his thoughts, making Clary stir.

"Hush little girl, your mother's sleeping," Jonathon whispers. She is surprisingly quiet, Jonathon never cried as a baby but he certainly didn't laugh. He's relieved that his daughter laughs. Alex, smart little thing, stops her squealing but stares intently at her father, trying to communicate some need of hers.

Jonathon stares back, trying to figure out what his child needs. He is at a loss, he has not the slightest clue what to do. Clary would know what to do, Clary would know what her daughter needs.

"Do you need a new diaper? A bath? Food?" Jonathon asks, very quietly not wanting to disturb Clary who has just fallen asleep again. On the last word Alex's gaze changes, something that resembles approval. "Food it is then," Jonathon says, slowly laying Clary's head on the pillows and grabbing a blanket to wrap around Alex. He carries the little girl out of the room down to the kitchens. The night shift guards stare at him as he passes. They never thought they would see their stern, harsh but fair king carry around a child. Jonathon ignores them and walks through the steel door to the kitchens. One lone kitchen hand startles at his presence.

"Your majesty!" The kitchen maid curtsies hurriedly. Seeing the little girl in his hands she speaks again, "Your highness." The kitchen maid must know by now about the birth of the princess.

"What do I feed her? She's hungry," Jonathon says, trying to keep a stern face but Alex pats his cheeks and his expression falters. The maid's tight expression softens slightly at the child's actions. She walks over to the kitchen pantry and retrieves a small glass jar filled with a white creamy mixture. She heats it over the oven. She then hands the bottle to Jonathon.

"Feed her this every six hours, warm, until she can eat liquid food, then solid. I hope that satisfies your need your majesty," the maid asks.

"Yes, thank you," Jonathon says taking the bottle and walking back to their room. He lies back down on the bed with Alex sitting cradled in his arm. He places the bottle next to her mouth and Alex eagerly takes it. Her eyelids get heavier as the bottles contents gets smaller. Jonathon watches as the milky contents of the bottle disappears and his daughter's hunter green eyes shut as she snuggles into the blanket in his arms. Jonathon, not disturbing Alex, slips under the covers next to Clary, who is still out cold. Jonathon sets Alex's blanket bundle on his stomach and the little ivory locked girl splays her arms out to the sides.

Clary rolls over, the blankets having fallen off her body, seeking warmth. She curls up against Jonathon who draws the blankets up around them and settles into the pillows. He strokes Clary bright red hair, watching her chest rise and fall, keeping an arm around his daughter's little body. He can't help but feel at peace, something he only felt with Clary tucked under his arms. Now with his wife and daughter that feeling once again washes over him, calming his nerves as he sinks into the mattress.

Jonathon lays his head in the crook of Clary's neck, breathing in the fresh scent of her body soap and the fresh blankets she's surrounded with. The moment he closes his eyes, after making sure Alex is secure in his stomach and Clary's asleep, sleep smacks him like a hand across the cheek.

Clary wakes up with Jonathon's nose stuck in her hair. She pulls her face out of his chest and sees his limbs spread all over the bed. His shoulders are raised and an arm is around her the other sits loosely down by his stomach but she can't see the hand. Her arms feel empty, she's forgetting something. She runs her hands down her body, feeling for the missing object. That's when a light coo sounds and yesterday flood back. The baby, Alex, Jason, her mother, passing out, Jonathon holding Alex. Jonathon holding Alex. She sits up and looks around for her, finding her sitting on her father's stomach. Alex faces her father's head and is slapping her hands against Jonathon's chest. Clary looks up to his face to find him fast asleep. Alex looks at her mother and laughs continuing to slap her father's chest.

Clary smiles and picks Alex up off of Jonathon's stomach, sitting her down on her lap. Alex laughs as Clary's red hair falls in a curtain around her face and Alex threads her hands through the fiery locks. Clary plays with Alex's hands as she tries to grab the fire. Clary starts bouncing her legs with Alex on them. Alex is bewildered at first with the new foreign motion, clutching her mother's legs but soon starts giggling. Clary loves her daughter's giggle, so cute and innocent… and infectious. Soon after Alex starts full out laughing Clary bursts out laughing with pure joy as her daughter uses her tiny hands to cling to the toned muscles of Clary's legs.

Clary looks over to see Jonathon still sleeping. Clary frowns but smiles, keeping her brows knit though she looks back to her daughter. "I think daddy's tired. What do you think? Should we wake him up?"

To Clary's absolute amazement Alex nods still giggling. With a devilish smile Clary swings her leg up over Jonathon, holding Alex to her hip. Sitting on Jonathon's stomach now, he still doesn't wake up and Clary sets Alex down very close to his face on his chest. She leans down next to her daughter, close to Jonathon's face.

"Jonathon," she whispers. Jonathon stays asleep, his breathing not changing. Clary looks at Alex who seems to have a mischievous look on her face, further encouraging her mother. She smiles and Clary turns back to Jonathon.

"Jonathon," she says in her regular voice. He still doesn't wake up.

"What did you do to him last night?" Clary asks. In reality Alex had woken Jonathon up at least seven times, once for feeding, once for changing and the others because she had rolled off his stomach on the cold side of the bed. Alex had unsuccessfully tried to crawl back on his stomach. Seeing as she can't walk or crawl she woke Jonathon and he replaced her on his stomach.

Clary purses her lips, holding tightly to Alex just in case Jonathon jolts and takes a deep breath. Alex seems to hold hers in anticipation.

"Ready?" she whispers. Alex stares enthusiastically at her father. "Jon!" Clary yells. Jonathon bolts awake, throwing Clary and Alex back against the wall of blankets and pillows. Clary hugs Alex to her chest as her back hits the cushions. Alex starts giggling uncontrollably and Clary joins in, she rolls around on her back, her arms wrapped around Alex. She kicks her legs while laughing and she shuts her eyes, trying to control the humored tears rolling down her face. She stops and gasps once she feels her legs pinned down. Her eyes fly open, still clutching Alex as Jonathon prowls over her a playful predatory look on his face. He keeps his body above hers so he doesn't crush his daughter and wife.

"Why would you do that angel? Scaring me awake like that," Jonathon asks his voice low. His hands are on either side of her face and his legs are pinning hers down. Alex stares up at her father and makes a questioning sound. Jonathon looks down, chin to his chest, at his daughter.

"Were you an accomplice?" Jonathon asks of his daughter. Alex nods again causing Jonathon's eyebrows to go up.

"Oh yeah," Clary says matter-of-factly. "Alexandra knows how to nod now."

"I can see that," Jonathon says before tipping his head back up and kissing Clary deeply. Alex squeals, pawing at her father's stomach coming closer to her face. Clary laughs against Jonathon's lips, bouncing Alex up and down, making her squeal with laughter again. Jonathon pulls off of her and grabs Alex off Clary's stomach, tucking her to his chest as he rolls off the bed and stands.

"Hey!" Clary protests but Jonathon pins her down with his free hand. Clary gapes at him, silently communicating with him, _Excuse me._

Jonathon notices. With Alex on his hip, he gives her a stern look. "I have to go feed her and you are not allowed out of bed," Jonathon says raising an eyebrow, daring her to argue.

Clary slumps against the bed in defeat. "Fine," Clary says glumly. "But! You have to feed her in here, with me."

Jonathon kisses her forehead. "Sure angel." He leaves the room. Clary realizes something and calls after Jonathon.

"Wait you know how to feed her?"

"Yeah babe, I know what I'm doing," Jonathon calls back and closes the door. Clary immediately jumps off the bed, sways for a moment then walks to the desk with her sketching supplies. She grabs a sketch pad and rummages around for some fountain pens. Before she can find them, she hears the door open and close, a sigh and feels a strong arm wrap around her waist, hoisting her over Jonathon's shoulder. He's using both hands.

"Where's Alex?" Clary says, worry building in her voice.

Jonathon sets her down on the bed right next to Alex who holds a bottle to her mouth with the help of a pillow but Alex is not strong enough to hold up the bottle. It starts slipping and Clary grabs it, holding it up for Alex to finish off the milky contents. Clary sets Alex in her lap while she finishes her bottle and Jonathon sits down behind her, wrapping his legs around her and pulling her into his lap.

"I thought I told you you weren't allowed out of bed," Jonathon says into her neck.

"I wanted my sketchpad," she says as Alex finishes her bottle, her eyes falling closed as she settles into her mother's lap.

Jonathon reaches over to the desk with his long arms and grabs her sketchpad and a pencil. He hands them to her but she pushes them away.

"I can't sketch now! Alex is sleeping," Clary says, lifting Alex up to her chest and wrapping her in a blanket.

"Well, excuse me," Jonathon says, mocking indignation. He sets the pad back on the nightstand.

"I think she's beautiful," Clary says offhandedly.

Jonathon sets his chin on her shoulder, smiling softly. "Just like her mother," he whispers.

_Two Years Later-_

Alex sits on Clary's lap as she oversees another court case. It's so boring, just another burglary, but Alex gives the court room some light. She can talk in full sentences now, her first words were _Angel _as she heard her father say so many times. Alex turns back; her white blond hair and dark green eyes shine in the warm light.

"Mommy, how much longer?" Alex asks in her soft, sweet voice.

"Just a few more minutes sweetheart," Clary whispers in her daughter's ear. As she says this the judges stand up and face their queen and princess.

"Your majesty, your highness, we have reached a verdict. We find the defendant innocent on all charges," the judge, Garrett, says.

The defendant breaks out in a relieved smile. Clary stands, Alex linking her arms around her mother's neck and Clary holds her daughter against her body. Alex's shoulder length hair falls into her face as the court stands and bows to their queen and princess before they leave the room. She walks them back to her and Jonathon's room. Clary sits down on the couch with Alex in her lap. Clary has an hour until her next meeting, her last one of the day. Clary lays her head back against the couch but Alex squirms on her lap and Clary bumps her leg up and down, bouncing Alex up and down. Clary smiles as she hears Alex squeal in joy, laughing her head off.

Clary still has her eyes closed as she rides her mother's leg. She doesn't hear him but Jonathon has come in behind the couch and now kisses her neck. Her bouncing leg stops as her fingers thread through Jonathon's hair and fist in his curls.

"Eww," Alex says, looking back and seeing her parents kissing. They both ignore her but smile against each other's lips.

_Three Years Later-_

Alexandra runs through the stables, chatting excitedly to the horses in their stalls. Clary smiles and walks behind her daughter. Her little girl has taken a large fascination to horses, her sketchpad is filled with them. Her waist length ivory hair swings back and forth in it's braid and her dark green eyes sparkle with excitement as she pulls out her sketchpad and tries to capture her favorite animal in graphite. She's quite the artist too, even at only five, a talent she's inherited from her mother. She is also an extraordinary Shadowhunter, her father drilling her and training her himself, Clary teaching her the runes and training when Jonathon is busy. When they both have to attend some royal business Alex is either with one of them, enduring the 'aggravatingly boring' business or getting taught by her tutor. Now, with Clary's free time she's brought her daughter to the stables.

"Mommy," Alex asks, running over to her father's black stallion, the one the raced her with all those years ago before the crowning ball. Clary walks over to Alex and kneels down next to her.

"What is it sweetheart?" Clary asks as Alex strokes the black stallion's mane. Clary places a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Is this daddy's horse? Because I think he should have a white one, black is too dark for daddy. He's all light."

Clary smiles at Alex's bluntness, Alex thinks because of her and her father's white hair it means they're light. Jonathon has had stern talks with her about this, scolding her that she is the light one and he is dark, his light hair a deception. Before she can reiterate this to her daughter, strong arms wrap around her and Alex's waists, hoisting them off the ground and Jonathon settles Alex on his hip while he brings Clary close to his body, capturing her lips with his.

"Eww," Alex says. Jonathon pulls away from the kiss and looks at his daughter with a stern look.

"Alex, what have I told you about complaining?" Jonathon has taught her to not react so largely to Clary and Jonathon's displays.

Alex hangs her head. "That displays of love are normal and should not be ridiculed," Alex recites. Jonathon lets a gentle smile onto his face as he kisses Alex's nose.

"That's right, little angel. Now what's this I hear about a new horse?" Jonathon asks, still holding Clary close but Alex smiles and wraps her arms around his neck.

Clary speaks up, "She thinks you should have a white horse, because you're all light." Clary goes up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Let her believe it because it's true, you are light under all your _sexy_ darkness," she says seductively, putting suggestion in her tone, causing Jonathon to shiver. Before he can respond she pulls away and walks toward Blazer, Jonathon's stallion and turns her back to him, brushing the horse's mane. He sets Alex down and crouches in front of her.

"My little Alex, I cannot just abandon Blazer now. Don't you think that would be unfair to him?" Jonathon's voice is sweet and soft with a smile playing across his lips, letting his kindness he only has for his wife and daughter show. Alex pouts, rethinking her earlier statement, once again falling prey to her father's logic. She shakes her head.

"No it wouldn't be fair… but you could get a white stallion and give Blazer to me. Then you wouldn't be abandoning him and he would have a rider," Alex says smiling brightly at her smart retort.

Jonathon's smile widens, his little girl is very smart, no doubt a trait inherited from her mother, the soft and sharp logic of Clary not the cold, hard logic from him. "My little Alex, you are becoming very brilliant, just like your mother," Jonathon says looking up to admire Clary's back turned to him. She turns her head slightly at his comment, peaking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You're not too bad yourself," Clary says. Her tone and expression, the way her body curves when she says those words, sends shivers down his back. He can't help but gawk at how beautiful she is, and he has her all to himself. Before he can bolt over and envelop Clary in a kiss, he turns back to his daughter.

"I'll tell you what, little angel. I get to keep Blazer but you can have a white stallion of your own," Jonathon says as Alex's face lights up. "Only, if you get your Downworlder studies finished by the end of the week."

Alex jumps on her father, wrapping her small yet strong arms around him and he picks her up. "Really?" Alex says excitedly, bouncing in her father's arms. Jonathon nods. Alex pulls back, knitting her brow. "Can it be dappled like mother's? Stormer is so pretty," Alex asks.

Jonathon just smiles; everything Clary has is pretty where she herself is beautiful. "Of course little angel."

Alex's smile returns to her face as she jumps from her father, hugs him and rushes over to Clary, grooming Blazer. Calling out to her, "Mommy, mommy did you hear that? Father's going to get me a dappled stallion just like yours!"

Clary turns from Blazer and picks Alex up in her arms, smile blazing with contentment, setting her on her hip. "Is that so? What do you need to do though?" Alex only gets things on her birthday or she does some task to improve her training. Sometimes Jonathon tries to get Alex to do training exercises far above her age range. Granted she is three years ahead in training since she was able to stand and talk at the age of two. Clary raises her eyebrows at her daughter. Jonathon has gotten many a scolding from his wife because he's tried to push their daughter too far, he soon, after much yelling from her, realizes that he let some Valentine slip. Valentine was always pushing Jonathon to the absolute limit and he expects the most from his daughter but Clary has held him back.

"I have to finish my Downworlder studies by the end of the week," Alex says, not letting the prospect of sitting in a library all day dampen her mood.

"That's not so bad. You're a quick reader; you'll be done before tomorrow though only if you start now. I suggest you get to the library if you want that horse, yes?"

Alex nods vigorously and starts to squirm out of her mother's grasp. Clary sets her down and she is gone in the blink of an eye in a flash of white. With both angel and demon blood, their daughter is fast, smart, agile, she can keep up with Jonathon and Clary when they train with some of the blunter weapons.

Alex gone, Jonathon stands and walks over to Clary, pulling her flush with his lower body, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kisses her sweetly, picking her up and she wraps her legs around his waist, smiling against his lips. "I don't think we turned out too bad as parents, do you?" Jonathon says against her lips.

"No, I don't think we turned out too badly," Clary tells him. "How long do you suppose she'll be?"

Jonathon chuckles as he sets her down, keeping his arms around her and she locks her elbows around the back of his neck. "I doubt she'll take more than a few hours. There really isn't anything Alexandra isn't good at. Just like her mother," Jonathon says burying his face in her neck. He kisses her again and they turn to walk back to the Gard. After some thought, Clary wholly agrees with her husband. They are rather good parents, their daughter is happy, healthy, smart, agile, sweet, lithe, lean and disciplined. She's beautiful too, her father's high cheekbones and her mother's slight frame. She shows little trace beside the physical effects of the demon blood. None of Jonathon's anger, upon discovering this Jonathon had been greatly relieved. He had been wrong in his initial assumption that he would be a terrible father. He is kind and patient, caring, thoughtful and he loves his girls, Clary and Alexandra, with his entire being. Clary loved him all the better for it.

_One Year Later-_

Jonathon and Clary lay in their bed, naked. Jonathon's arm draped over her waist, her back pressed against his chest. Their bodies radiate heat into each other and the bed. Clary cracks her eyes open as the bedroom quietly swings open and a small shadow stands in the doorway, clutching her elbows. The light from the hall outlines the figure's ivory hair, making it appear like a halo. Clary draws the covers up over her husband's naked body and pulls a blanket around her body.

"What's wrong panther?" Clary asks drowsily, still lying down with her eyes sharply focused on her daughter. Alex earned the nickname in training, after demonstrating her great lithe and flexibility.

"Can I sleep in here mommy, with you?" Alex still stands in the doorway, knowing full well she is well past sleeping with her parents.

"Sweetheart, you should be in your own bed," Clary says.

"I had a bad dream, about tomorrow." Tomorrow she gets her first rune, four years before she's supposed to but her studies are already past where she should get her rune. She is strong enough and mature enough for the rune but she is still scared, ignorant to the sensation of a stele against her skin.

"Of course panther, one second," Clary says as she shakes Jonathon awake. His eyes slowly open, staring at her bare back. He pulls her close to him, kissing her spine and burying his face in her warm skin.

"What is it angel?" Jonathon whispers.

"Alex is here, go throw on a pair of boxers and grab me a shirt and some underwear please," Clary whispers.

Jonathon looks up now, seeing his daughter standing at the edge of the bed. He hauls himself out of bed, taking a blanket with him to wrap around his waist. Clary sits under the sheets, still naked but opens her arms for Alex to climb into. She settles into her mother's arms and hugs her naked torso, not minding her mother's bareness. Jonathon comes back in a moment with one of his shirts and a pair of Clary's panties. Clary hands Alex over to Jonathon, now in boxers as she dons the shirt and panties. They all lay back against the against the pillows, Jonathon immediately slipping back into sleep. Alex lays between them, once she feels her father go to sleep she turns to her drowsy mother.

"Do you want to tell me about the dream, little Alex?" Clary asks softly, her eyes closed.

"It was about tomorrow. Is it gonna hurt?"

"Only a little baby. There's going to be one little sting then you'll feel so good you won't be able to describe it. You'll be able to see with perfect clarity and your father won't be able to sneak up on you with glamours anymore," Clary whispers with a smile.

Alex laughs and wraps her strong skinny arms around her mother's waist. Clary places an arm around her daughter's shoulders and looks over at Jonathon. How did she go from hating him to having his daughter? Alex lays her head on her mother's chest and falls asleep in the warm embrace of her mother.

She runs a hand through Jonathon's hair and his hand comes up to grasp hers. He brings it down to his lips and kisses it, too tired to move her hand away. "My angel. Always soothing and kind," he mumbles against her hand. "You are light and brilliant and gorgeous. A wonderful mother, a beautiful, caring wife. How can I ever deserve you?"

"Don't say that. You deserve me more than you could know. You know how I balance you and that is all the reason you need to deserve me," Clary says quietly.

"That's just it though, I don't know how you balance me because I cannot see myself. I only know that I am dark and you are light," Jonathon says, his hot breath ghosting over her skin.

"And yet you can see yourself in our daughter, how my light can balance your dark. I told you this six years ago. Alex is the embodiment of balance, our balance. Go to sleep, I'm tired," Clary mumbles, sliding down into the pillows and pulling the blankets around her and Alex, bringing Jonathon's face above hers.

"But," Jonathon begins; Clary cuts him of with two fingers to his lips. She leans over her daughter and kisses him.

"Go to sleep," she whispers.

Jonathon recaptures her lips before she can settle down on the bed. Only Alex stirring broke them apart, then Clary settles next to her daughter and sleeps in a deep black void, the dark cushioning her thoughts as she waits for her daughter's rune ceremony.


	25. Epilogue- The Rune and the Child

_**I finally did it guys. I finally finished the story and honestly I was kind of getting tired of writing happy, sappy moments. I guess I should feel bad that I prefer drama and tension but I don't. Anyway, final chapter! Hope you guys like it, review it and now I go to my other story which I haven't updated since January but thanks to my friend Gillian73 I have started writing a new chapter. Enjoy!**_

_The Next Day-_

It's killing her. It twists her stomach and shoves her heart into her throat. The gleaming light comes closer to the pale surface of her daughter's skin. She too young, her mind screams. It will kill her. She can't lose her daughter. She remembers the first year of her daughter's life. Filled with joy and laughter but also skepticism, but Alex was nothing like Jonathon. Alex's smile when she first saw Simon.

_Standing in the conservatory, Alex squirms in Clary's lap as she hears the doors open at her back and footsteps sound on the wood before being muffled on the thick carpet Clary and Alex sit on. Her back tightens as she feels a looming presence behind her._

_"Hey Fray," says the sweet, familiar voice._

_"Hey Si," Clary says not turning around. Simon sits down next to her and places a hand on her back. She feels no hostility or anger, just comfort and warmth._

_Alex looks at this new face with wide, curious eyes. Simon stares back with the same doe eyes._

_"And who is this?" Simon says, smiling down at the little girl sitting in his best friend's lap._

_"Your god daughter," Clary says, smiling as her daughter continues staring at this new face, this friendly, warm face._

_"And what might my god daughter's name be?" Simon asks as Clary leans against him, tired from her lack of sleep last night. Despite Jonathon's protests she's taken care of Alex for the past couple of nights._

_"Alexandra," Clary says with a yawn. At her name Alex looks to her mother and squeals, holding up her hands and grabbing, asking to be picked up. Clary doesn't see her daughter but Simon does. He reaches around the almost asleep Clary and picks Alex up, who squeals in delight at these new, foreign hands holding her._

_Simon sets her on his knee as he wraps an arm around Clary's shoulders as she drifts in and out of consciousness. "Hello Alexandra. It seems your mother is tired. Did you keep her up last night?"_

_Alex nods, her intelligence still amazes Clary. She's able to wave and nod and laugh now. Simon's eyes widen as he receives an answer to his question. Clary laughs slightly, watching the two through her half closed eyes._

_"She's smart isn't she?" Clary asks as Simon slowly comes out of his shock._

_"She's very smart. I can't help but expect it either, you being her mother," Simon says a smile returning to his face. Clary sits up and frowns._

_"And what about her father?" Clary asks. Simon seems to like Alex but she can't know for sure until she gets his real opinion. She can't see any hidden disgust on her friend but he's changed, she's changed, she might not know him as well anymore. She studies his face as it shifts from emotion to emotion. Hate, concern, confusion, conflict._

_"She's not her father," he finally says. "And I know you won't let her become her father."_

_Clary watches him with amazement. "So you're fine that your goddaughter is Jonathon's daughter?"_

_"She's your daughter too. And that's what matters," Simon says, rubbing Clary's shoulder._

_"I'm glad you think that. I don't know what I would do if you… I don't know. Were repulsed."_

_"Never, Fray. I'm not as thick headed as I look," Simon says with a smile._

_Clary laughs. "No you're not Si."_

_She hears heels click on the wood behind them and looks up at Simon. He gives her a shy smile as she hears a delighted squeal from Isabelle behind her._

_"By the Angel Clary, she's beautiful," Isabelle squeals, sitting down across from Simon, making Alex turn around to face the tall, willowy, beautiful, black haired girl. Isabelle is wearing a one shoulder strap, loose black shirt and the ring on her left ring finger glistens gold along with Simon's. They had gotten married a year ago, after coming to Clary, being queen, to ask for approval. It was a very awkward affair and Clary had convinced Jonathon, who had final say, that it would be no harm to the Shadowhunter community._

_It was a beautiful spring wedding and Clary had gone but Jonathon had not. They hadn't minded, they were just glad that she came. _

_Izzy picks Alex up and sits her in her lap, playing with Alex's long hair._

_"She's beautiful. Clary what's her name?"_

_"Alexandra," Clary replies. _

_"That's a beautiful name, Clary," Isabelle says, smiling as Alex starts laughing._

_"Thanks. It's good that she likes you. You being her godmother and all," Clary says, still leaning against Simon._

_Isabelle gasps. "Really! Clary, why didn't you tell me?"_

_Clary laughs again. "I just did. I need you guys to agree and then sign the papers but only if you want to."_

_"Of course I will. Won't we Simon? We'd love to be little Alexandra's godparents!" Izzy says, her voice dripping excitement. The rest of that morning had been spent with Izzy coddling Alex on the floor of the conservatory and Simon supporting Clary as she took a well-deserved nap._

_Jonathon had come in the afternoon and taken Clary to bed, leaving Alex with Simon and Isabelle after a short argument with Clary, which she won despite being half asleep. She slept for the rest of the day and woke up to the darkness of night, Alex sleeping in her crib and Jonathon next to her. Jonathon seemed to have gotten Alex to sleep so Clary decided to get a few more hours of sleep with Jonathon wrapped around her. She was glad that Izzy and Simon had accepted the position of godparents and hadn't rejected her daughter despite her parentage._

_Alec and Magnus were just happy for her, that she had a daughter, that she was happy._

And she is happy, but she's nervous she might lose her daughter to a stele of all things. Jonathon's hand rests on her shoulder, calming her as the stele touches Alex's skin and the clairvoyant rune takes shape on the back of her hand. It's over in a second and Alex is running over to her, waving her hand excitedly.

"You were right mommy. It only hurt a little and everything's clearer somehow," Alex says.

Clary scoops her up and smiles lovingly at her daughter. She made it. Her strong little girl, always surprising her. "See, you're my strong little sweetheart," Clary says, bouncing Alex on her hip. She laughs, she's always laughing and it is such a pure, innocent, joyful sound that it makes Clary's heart warm.

"She's my strong little angel. Just like her mother," Jonathon says, taking Alex from Clary's arms and hugging her small body to him. "I'm so proud of you."

He turns to Clary, smiling and pulls her against him, still holding Alex. "And you, for bringing such a wonderful daughter into the world." He kisses her deeply. He hasn't kissed her like this for a while. Alex taking up all their spare time and their nights mostly used for much needed sleep but now, the stress of the new rune gone and Alex becoming more independent, he takes his time. He lets the heat from his lips sink into hers and she locks her arms around his neck, melting into him.

The rest of the day was filled with celebrations, presents and visits from Luke, Jocelyn, Magnus, Alec, Simon and Izzy. They all were shocked and extraordinarily happy for Clary and her daughter but they celebrated all the same. The first rune is always something to celebrate.

That night, after everyone had left and Alex in her room, asleep in bed, Jonathon and Clary mosey down the hall to their own bedroom. A heavy stressful weight feels like it's been lifted from Clary's chest. She's happy and so is Jonathon.

Jonathon notices the space between them, how they haven't lingered in each other's touch for so long, preoccupied with their daughter and their royal duties but tonight, they have time. No meetings tomorrow, no child to hover around and comfort when her nightmares come. Tonight it's just them and Jonathon takes advantage.

Near their bedroom he abruptly stops making Clary look at him with confusion.

"What's wrong?" Clary asks.

His eyes sparkle with lust and longing as he backs her up against the wall. "What's wrong is that I haven't done this in two years," he whispers before capturing her lips with his. His hands press against the wall but move down to grasp her waist as Clary presses into him, threading her hands in his hair, pushing her body into his.

His lust courses through her, radiating off his very being and his hands travel from her waist to her rear, wrapping around her thighs and hoisting her off the ground. She keeps her lips on his as she wraps her legs around him. Their breaths come fast and short as her back is pressed harder against the wall but Jonathon pulls away and kicks open the door to their room. Clary's hands are frantic as she pulls up his shirt, working it from under her legs. He breaks the kiss to pull off the shirt.

They haven't done this in _so long_ and it feels so good. The familiar rush of emotions, the rub of his skin against hers, the feel of Jonathon's lust pouring into her all make her moan as Jonathon kisses her neck then drops her on the bed. She hurriedly pulls off her shirt and pants, while Jonathon strips his trousers then climbs on top of her, pressing his body into hers as he envelops her lips once again.

Jonathon rips off her bra and underwear while Clary slides his boxers down with her feet then wraps her feet around his waist and pulls him into her. It makes her moan as Jonathon rolls his hips and she keeps his mouth on hers, one hand on the back of his head, playing with his curls, the other travelling down his back. The sweet sensation builds in her stomach as Jonathon moves against her. He lets a moan escape against her chest where he is running his teeth along her breasts. He moves back up and runs his hands through her hair as he revels in the feel of her, keeping his eyes closed and his face just above hers. He shifts down and kisses her cheek, trailing his tongue along her jaw.

She relishes how Jonathon feels against her, his fingers trail along her skin, leaving behind trails of fire. Jonathon's thighs squeeze her hips and she squeezes back with her own legs. Jonathon rolls over and pulls her on top of him. She pulls her hair over one shoulder and looks down at Jonathon as she sits back on her heels, rolling her hips as Jonathon grasps her thighs. She smiles, a smile filled with lust and desire as she places a hand on his chest and the other brushes his legs. She moves forward, slowly, sensually. She teases Jonathon with her carefulness and he tries to sit up but Clary holds him down with her hand on his chest. She shakes her head and leans down to whisper.

"Patience, it's my turn," Clary says and Jonathon growls deep in his throat, thrusting his hips upward and Clary gasps. Jonathon laughs a little and Clary continues moving. She snaps their hips together and they both moan. Jonathon is tired of Clary's slow, teasing pace and flips them over again. Clary kept him down and away from her lips while she was on top and now he plants his lips on hers, not letting her go until he's satisfied. She lets him as her hands grasp his hips and pulls him down on her, holding him in place. She absorbs his heat, how he feels inside her.

Clary can feel her coil twist tighter until she's itching to release it and Jonathon's the one who releases it with a final snap of his hips and nip of his lips. She screams her release, one she's lacked for two years and it feels amazing. Jonathon screams just as her high ends and they fall to the bed panting and laughing. They lay under the covers, exchanging chaste kisses and laughs. Jonathon plays with her and she plays with him until they're both too exhausted to move.

Clary lies on the mattress, half asleep with Jonathon's hands clasped in hers. The silence in the room is wonderful because she can hear every breath and movement of her husband. She hears the sheets ruffle as Jonathon rolls over and rests his cheek on her stomach, just like when he got injured from the Greater Demon almost ten years ago.

"I've missed that so much," Jonathon murmurs against her stomach, flicking his thumb back and forth over her shoulder.

Clary reaches her hand down and winds it in his hair, letting its softness caress her fingers. "I have too," she whispers and then they both fall asleep, utterly exhausted but content.

_Three Weeks Later-_

Clary sits in the bathroom and stares at the two lines crossing each other on the pink stick. She's going to have another one. Alex is going to have a little brother or sister. Clary can't help but smile now at the news. Now she knows she's a good parent and she loves Alex so much, she can't wait for this next one. Jonathon will be thrilled too, another mind for him to mold, another reminder that Clary is his and she loves him.

She stands from the tile of the bathroom and walks out into the bedroom. She hears the clash of swords from the training room and heads there, knowing her husband and daughter are drilling there. She throws open the doors to find Jonathon pinning Alex down, a victory for him but as soon a she sees her he helps his daughter up who smiles at her mother and goes to put the swords back.

Jonathon sees the giant grin on Clary's face and can't help but grin himself. He walks over and wraps her in a hug. "Why so happy Angel?"

"I'm happy because we made another angel," she says still grinning.

Jonathon takes a moment to process this and then sweeps her up in a deep kiss. "That's wonderful!" he exclaims. "Little angel, come here! Did you here that? You're going to have a little sibling!"

Alex runs over and hugs Clary's waist, not quite tall enough to reach her stomach. "That's great mommy! I can teach them everything that daddy taught me."

Jonathon laughs with his face buried in her neck and a hand ruffling Alex's hair. Clary lets herself enjoy all this happiness that she has been surrounded with. After years of struggle and pain and heartbreak everything finally seems right.


	26. Updating Needed

By the Angel, I'm so sorry. I am just reading through my story here and am appalled at how many mistakes and plot screw ups there are. I'm going to be changing and editing for the next couple days. I'll also change some of the plot too, something new eh? Have fun with the updates, sorry you had to read such a bad story, I'm going to fix it.

BTW I'm sorry I haven't posted on my other story, MAJOR writer's block. I'll probably think of something in the next month or so.


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